Comrade Obama!

It’s Saturday night and rather than face the hot night of drunken crowds and expensive beers, I’m going to tuck in with Forgetting Sarah Marshall (a movie that’s come up twice in the past day) and patiently wait for the fall. On to scarves! Flannel and stockings! Pretty leaves and apple pie! I’m eagerly anticipating the day the radiators rumble to life and emit that sweet warm smell.

But before I can slumber, I need to rant. President Obama would like to address the students on the merits of education and staying in school. HOW DARE HE! HE’S BRAINWASHING THE PRECIOUS YOUTH OF TODAY! Soon we’ll all be lining up for bread and wearing too much red! He might even get them going on that crazy idea of community! Or Islam! Or affordable healthcare! What a bastard.

Now I’m a bit past my “youthful” years, my salad days if you will, but if I were a teenager today I’d be pretty damn insulted. I’d be downright pissed if someone told me that I couldn’t listen to a speech given by the President of my country because it is deemed “too dangerous” for my darling feeble adolescent mind. Well I’m sure all these parents will keep their kids out of school that day and stick em right in front of Fox News. At least there’s nothing subtle about their method of brainwashing.

Happy Labor Day! (Though that sounds like a damn commie holiday supporting unions)

My Theory on Life

The other night I was waxing poetic with my friend Jill (actual friend, not figment) and I stumbled upon my theory of life. Since I’m such a generous person, I decided to share it with all three of my readers.
My theory is one of balance between three world views. To lead a happy and successful life, one must balance the larger picture, the details and the reality.

The larger picture is philosophy, religion and spirituality. Questions like “Why are we here?” and “What am I?” should be considered and mulled over throughout life. To live without this reasoning is to live unfulfilled and shallow existence. But one must also be careful not to solely focus on these questions, but also remember the reality and the details.

The reality is what is going on at the moment, the day to day. Other people, tasks at hand and making a living are all a part of the reality. As beings of society we must know how to function in the reality. Most people fall into two categories, those who can’t function in reality and those that can only function in reality.

Finally, we come to the details. These are the tiny things often taken for granted and I consider most to be bodily sensations. Smelling a rose, touching something soft, walking; all things we take for granted. To consider these things is to have appreciation for them and perhaps to feel grateful for them. One day we will all die and no longer have access to these things, and that’s what makes them important.

My point is to live life to the fullest, one must balance these three world views; consider the greater picture, living in the reality and take time to notice the details.

Up next: Hot priests in movies!

Summer Reading

Recently, my beloved mother took me on a trip to Barnes and Noble. On that magical afternoon, I picked out my summer reading titles. Here’s what I’m planning on reading and any random thoughts I feel like including:



Truth and Beauty – Ann Patchett

As I write this, I have already finished this book. I would describe it as an elegiac memoir. Patchett writes about her long friendship with the poet Lucy Grealy. Early on, the author uses the analogy of the ant and grasshopper to describe their relationship. Ann was the sensible, maternal force in Lucy’s life. And Lucy was an unpredictable and selfish spirit in Ann’s existence. Their co-dependence drives their lives almost as much as their ambition. The tale ends with Lucy’s death from an accidental overdose after a downward spiral of drugs and alcohol befitting a poet. There is much much more to this story and I’d recommend this book to anyone. I could also go on about it for pages, but I’m going to stop here.



Brideshead Revisited – Evelyn Waugh

First of all, I was pissed to discover that Evelyn was a man. Secondly, I’m pumped to read this book. I watched the movie not long ago, and although it was good, I was so excited to read the book and learn more about the characters that I didn’t finish the movie. It comes off as prosy, but still readable.



Little Children – Tom Perrotta

This movie left me feeling incredibly depressed and a bit icky. So boy was I surprised when I picked up this novel and it was funny! Almost made me laugh out loud in a public place funny! I’m excited to dive further into this tale of dysfunctional suburbanites and their sexual indiscretions.



The House of the Spirits – Isabel Allende

This is one of those modern classics I somehow missed in my literary education. The only Allende I’ve read was her memoir of her family’s departure from Chile under the Pinochet regime. I like a good Latin American family drama, and I think this one will deliver.



Three Cups of Tea – Greg Mortensen and David Oliver Relin

I’ve heard many rave reviews of this book and the story of “one man’s mission to promote peace, one school at a time” should be engaging. It’s always helpful to learn about countries like Pakistan because you never know when they are going to act up and you’ll be able to display your newfound info at dinner parties and bars everywhere. Reading Lolita in Tehran is a prime example of something I only started to read but still left with enough knowledge to impress people in the current revolutionary climate of Iran. Watching Persepolis helped too.

That’s my summer reading plan. I might throw a few more in there as I come across them. Currently, I’ve finished on and started the next. I think I’m keeping a good pace. What are you reading this summer?

Look! It's Calgon incarnete! Take me away!

Because people insist on sending me chain emails, I take special delight in forming wise-ass responses. So for all of those not in my immediate family and thus privy to my wise-ass manifesto, I give you my responses to:

Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland , Ohio

"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught
me. It is the most-requested column I've ever written."

My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:
-First of all, is this woman really qualified to give such advice? Is she a certified therapist? And regardless, she's 90. Do I need to break out the stats on dementia in the elderly or can grandma take it from here?

1. Life isn't fair, but it's still good. -
-This really is an over-simplification. I prefer a brief scene from the David Bowie film Labyrinth when the main character Sarah says "That's not fair" for about the 9th time, Mr. Bowie as Jareth replies "You say that so often, I wonder what your basis for comparison is."

2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
- Is this to avoid the onset of panic from looking at the big picture and realizing you're fucked? Then I agree. But I would have worded it "Don't look at the big picture because you'll realize just how fucked you are and panic."

3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone.
- I disagree. Hating people makes me feel better about myself.

4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch.
- Looks like Regina is a little behind on the times here. If your employer provides healthcare, then yes, they take care of you when you're sick. But in Regina's case, Medicaid takes care of her when she's sick. But that's about to go bankrupt, so Regina, don't look at the big picture because you're fucked.

5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
- My advice is to stick to debit cards, which take care of themselves.

6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
- Better advice is to learn the smile and the nod. When you realize you're right and the other person is clearly suffering from some sort of brain disability that doesn't allow them to see logically, you smile, nod and imagine them on fire in your head.

7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
- I tried this, didn't work. I didn't even get a second date.

8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
- First, prove to me that God exists. Then we'll talk.

9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
- That depends. My first paycheck came at age 15. All of it went to crap I didn't need. I think it worked out well in the long run.

10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
- I can better relate to "When it comes to hot hate sex with a stranger, resistance is futile." Get with the times Regina.

11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
- If you ignore something long enough, you will forget it. Right Regina? Can you remember your past? Didn't think so.

12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.
- No it's not. It just frightens us and then when we find ourselves in a pool of urine the next morning, we're going to resent you for the reemergence of our bed wetting habit.

13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
- This is true; we all have differing opinions on the band Journey. Personally, my relationship ended when Steve Perry left the band.

14. If a relationship has to be a secret, you shouldn't be in it.
- Oh so Romeo and Juliet had it wrong then? You would say that! They were in love! How could you Regina! AArrrghhhhh blllaalahhh

15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.
- Like Big Brother? That's creepy.

16.. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
- That depends on the type of smoke you're inhaling.

17.. Get rid of anything that isn't useful, beautiful or joyful.
- How am I going to explain that to my mom's cats? How?

18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
- Tell that to Beth in Little Women. Scarlet fever didn't help her much.

19. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
-Then I better not hear any shit the next time I wear my Jem t-shirt to a wedding. I'm just creating a better childhood for myself.

20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
- Shorten it. I can't get that all into a conversation with a man before the drugs kick in and he passes out.

21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
- You're right! Today's the day I sit around the house and watch TV in my best lingerie!

22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
- This is a good piece of advice, but needs to be clarified. I can help; stock up on tampons so when Aunt Flo comes to call at 2am you're not a bloody mess driving around town looking for a CVS.

23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
- Should read "Don't wait for old age to wear pigeon crap"

24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
- I wish my brain would leave me alone during sex. Then I could concentrate on getting off rather than last night's episode of Lost.

25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
- My good friend Jack Daniels begs to differ.

26. Frame every so-called disaster with these words 'In five years, will this matter?'
- When the test reads positive, yes, yes it will matter in five years.

27. Always choose life.
- Hmmm, that sounds like a little anti-abortion rhetoric to me. What's your agenda here Regina? Shoot any doctors in church lately?

28. Forgive everyone everything.
- I'll forgive them once karma has done its job.

29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
- Unless those 12 people form what is commonly known as a "jury".

30.. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
- Define "almost"

31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
- Now you're just making shit up and trying to make it sound good.

32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
- I'll keep that in mind during presentations and interviews.

33. Believe in miracles.
- Show me evidence.

34. God loves you because of who God is , not because of anything you did or didn't do.
- Again, show me evidence.

35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
- Great, I'll save the auditing for my in-depth autobiography.

36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.
- Can't wait to use that one the next time grandma gripes about her knees!

37. Your children get only one childhood.
- Can I cite rule 19? Isn't it up to my children if they get a second shot at childhood? And shouldn't that second childhood erase the years of damage from the first? Your rules have more plot holes than that movie The Lake House.

38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
- Sure, but I'd like to accomplish some things as well.

39. Get outside every day.. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
- If your definition of a miracle is a bug, then yes, they are waiting everywhere.

40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's, we’d grab ours back.
I'm not sure about that; let me see this so-called "pile" first.

41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
- That's only true for those with trust funds.

42. The best is yet to come.
- I think that every weekend, then "the best" turns out to be a hangover.

43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
- I'm pretty sure that's how the flu spreads.

44. Yield.
- Unless your plates read "New Jersey", apparently the rules of the road don't apply to you or your SUV.

45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift.
- But if you're David Carradine, it will end with a bow. (Too soon?)

That day I was on TV.

I could ramble on about politics, recent abortion doctor murders or the two lucky ladies that landed themselves an extended stay in a North Korean labor camp (don’t worry, they’ll get out), but instead I’m treating you to a trip down memory lane.

In the year 2004 there was something called an “election” going on. I knew this because my friend Julia was interning at MTV at the time and part of her duties was to inspire the youth to Rock the Vote. One day Julia asked my friend Jordan and I to wander on over to Washington Square Park and to think of questions we might have for someone called Senator John Kerry. Faced with the prospect of getting our shiny faces on TV, Jordan and I did some vague prep work and headed over. Once there, I realized that this would be a low budget production as the craft services table was missing and there was no one to do my make-up. Before I knew it, they handed me an MTV microphone and sat me in front of the camera. My prepared question had something to do with North Korea, then after some prodding I mumbled a question about the youth vote. Finally, I asked the burning question on the minds of all young people, “Senator Kerry, have you ever googled yourself?” Actually, that one was provided by MTV. Go figure.

Several days later, I sat with Julia and Jordan, confident that my intelligent, well-researched and overall fabulous questions had been heard, to watch the special on MTV. The credits ran, and there in the opening moments of the show, my face flashed for about ½ a second. It was grand, it was glorious, and it was my first taste of that sweet nectar known as fame. But alas, that’s all I had, a taste. The higher powers at MTV deemed my questions unimportant and to this day I will never know John Kerry’s answer to my informed and intelligent question on North Korea. But a week later at my local bar, a high school friend made a big production out of the fact that he saw me on MTV. And so my experience was validated.

As proof, I provide a screen shot from that fateful day.

The Awkward Glass of Water

The first time you’re invited into a friend’s place of residence, it is undoubtedly awkward. Should you remove your shoes? If so, where do you put them? Where to sit? Where to look? I have the unfortunate habit of running to any available bookcase and perusing the goods. And ultimately judging the homeowner based on his or her taste in fine literature. And if there is no bookcase? Well then I speak a little slower and discard any words with more than 3 syllables from my vocabulary. But I digress. Once you’ve entered a person’s home, immediately you are offered a beverage.

Host: Do you want something to drink? (Please don’t say wine, I’m saving that bottle for someone I might actually have sex with.)

Guest: No, I’m fine thanks. (Sitting on this bar stool is awkward enough and I’m currently distracted by your refrigerator art and wondering if I should have removed my shoes.)

Host: No, really let me get you something. I have apple juice, milk…water and some diet soda. (Please, would you fucking drink something! I need to do more than stand here awkwardly.)

Guest: Ok, I’ll have a glass of water. (I don’t trust your taste in apple juice, that milk looks old as fuck and I read on the internet that diet soda is full of rat poison. Just don’t take the water from the tap! I pray that you have a jug in the refrigerator or some sort of water filter system cleverly disguised as a tap.)

Host: Really? Just water? Are you sure? (Damn, I never drink the water from the tap!)

Guest: Yeah, water’s fine. (And you’re getting the water from the tap. Wonderful.)

Then you proceed to sit awkwardly and drink the strange tasting water, not at all thirsty, but desperate to get out of there. Next is the:

Guest: Should I put this in the sink? (With the pile of disgusting, stinking, old, crusty dishes you’re clearly attached to as you have yet to wash them.)

Host: No, it’s fine. You can just leave it there. (Of course you should put it in the sink. That’s clearly where the dishes go, but all I really want is for you to leave my abode so leave it.)

Guest: Ok, well I’m going to get going then. (I have to pee so bad after chugging that water but I’ll wait till I can pee in the comfort in my own bathroom.)

Host: Alright, nice seeing you! (Oh thank GOD! Now I can watch old episodes of Angel in my underwear.)

And that’s what I call The Awkward Glass of Water

The Valley of Elah

Very succinctly, this movie is the story of a father’s quest to discover what happened to his Iraq veteran son. Tommy Lee Jones masterfully plays the father and Charlize Theron is the tough female cop on the case, both of her own will and as an assignment. I don’t normally watch films like this, but I was drawn to this one because of the promise of the performers and the plot. Paul Haggis, of Crash fame, directs.

I don’t want to ruin the plot for anyone that hasn’t seen this movie, I’m just going to write about the effect it had. Watching this movie was like a kick to the gut. It’s a deep examination of the Iraq war and more importantly, the toll of this war on veterans. It neither excuses the actions of any of the characters or points a blatant figure at the administration. In fact, the movie tip-toes around the issue of mental health care for the veterans, but the impact can’t be missed. The symbolic gesture at the end offers no closure and states clearly that we are still in this mess, but somehow I was relieved. My relief came with the knowledge that the Bush Administration is over. Horrible mistakes were made over the past eight years and there is still so much work to be done, but at least there is hope now. It’s difficult not to feel an overwhelming sense of anger at everything Bush did. There is no justice for him, but I can still hope that one day he will realize what he did and feel guilty. That to me, would be the best form of justice and the only true form of justice.

Liz Lemon

First of all, Happy Birthday to grandma and Robert Pattinson! Two people who really sparkle! (Anyone who knows my grandma’s love of shiny clothing and Stephanie Meyer’s jackass reasoning for why vampires stay out of the sun will get that joke. Which means my mom is laughing somewhere).

As promised, this blog entry is a Liz Lemon tribute. Liz Lemon, created and played by Tina Fey, is the main character on NBC’s 30 Rock. The show is about to finish up its third season, but is available to stream on Netflix, or you can buy Seasons 1 & 2 at Target for $30. But that’s enough free promotion for NBC.

In my ever so humble opinion, Liz Lemon is one of the greatest TV characters since Lucy. She defies traditional definitions of feminity simply by being a slightly frumpy bitch that exercises her demons through food. Guess why I like her? That’s right, she’s relatable. She’s funny because the audience can relate to her and her life, more so than any character on Gossip Girl or 24. For instance, in one episode, Liz is ordered to cut back on 10% of her staff. Hmmm, who to fire? Naturally she chooses the girlfriend of the man she has a crush on. When the accounting department confronts Liz on the firing of one of their staff, she fires them. Who can’t relate to that impulse? Men have action movies to project their wildest daydreams, and women have the actions of Liz Lemon. Or the time her writing staff ate her food. Liz flipped the writing table and screamed “Where’s my mac and cheese!!!” Been there too.

Another brilliant aspect of the show is Liz Lemon’s appearance. To most of the viewing audience, Liz is a well dressed and fairly attractive woman. But to everyone around her, she’s hideous. This is because Liz Lemon works in the entertainment industry in New York. This hits a note with the at home viewers as most of them can’t hold a candle to the people they see on TV appearance-wise. When Liz is called out for the food in her hair or her “bisexual” choice of shoes, women across America feel better for committing those same sins. And when the actress behind the character is Tina Fey, you feel in good company. Because as Liz says after a trip to Ohio, “In Cleveland, I’m a model!”

Aw hell, my favorite part about Liz Lemon is that she makes me feel ok about being a bitchy chick that likes food and doesn't dress well. At times, I even feel amusing to others. Liz Lemon, you're my hero!

My current life situation and recent rambling blog posts have lead to a few “Are you OK?” conversations. This is my official State of the Jill speech. I’m OK. Doing fine. I finished up a freelance project today and applied for another job. Since I’ve been back, I apply to at least one almost every day. I haven’t been reading as much as I should, but I will. I’m an optimist. Also, I’m sitting in my living room right now and I can smell the lilacs in the air.

But one slightly disturbing change has taken place; the return of the anger. I knew it would come back and the West Coast Zen couldn’t last forever. The rudeness, judgmental and overall snobbish attitude of Orange County has seeped back into my pores and is oozing back out in the form of pure anger. For instance, my mom and I went to a silent art auction for Planned Parenthood this weekend. Overall, it was very nice. The crowd wasn’t friendly, but when are they ever? The true rudeness came out when the President of the Hudson Valley division stood on a folding chair to address the crowd. She gave a great speech about the state of Planned Parenthood and women’s rights in America. Unfortunately, not too many people heard the speech because they were too busy talking to each other. You’d think a room of wealthy, white adults would know how to behave in public. But as I said on my college interview, Orange County has some of the culture of NYC, but none of the class.

That’s enough griping from me. Next up, a tribute to Liz Lemon, my primetime hero. But here's some Walt Whitman to hold you over till then;

When lilacs last in the door-yard bloom’d,
And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night,
I mourn’d—and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

O ever-returning spring! trinity sure to me you bring;
Lilac blooming perennial, and drooping star in the west,
And thought of him I love.

Getting Late

“When I set out in my 20s I understood very little but I understood this much: Any educated white person in America is privileged, and no one is going to allow us to starve. We can't even starve if we want to. People keep inviting us to dinner to talk about Robert Lowell.” – Cary Tennis, salon.com

I just got thinking today about the authentic aspect of art. Watching I’m Not There lead me down this train of thought. Is pop music today floundering because most of the makers have never struggled? Most of the contestants on shows like American Idol couldn’t starve if they wanted. Most of us can’t starve. There will be someone there to help us along. Once, in college, a fellow student said that she thought that great art really couldn’t be created in dire circumstances because the artists would be too fixated on survival. I knew this girl and the life she led. It was one of privilege, despite how much she tried to hide it. Ironically, she lived in the West Village, once the Mecca of struggling artists. I didn’t need to prove her wrong, Edgar Allen Poe already did. But here we are. So many of the popular artists of today are the offspring of privilege. What do they have to prove? Why do I feel like the image of the artist is more important to the artist today than the art itself? I have a feeling that the influx of images has something to do with this. I can see the artists I love today. I can see them on TV, I can see their impromptu moments of creativity on the internet. I can see them and I can judge their images based on my preconceived notions of those images. I used to think that art wasn’t art if it wasn’t shared, but I’m beginning to think that the art hidden under the bed might be more authentic and more honest than anything offered. Why can’t the art of today speak for itself and why do we need to know more about the artist? Where is this going? I have no idea. Should I even put it out there? More importantly, can we struggle? Is there anything to struggle for? Most people I know struggle for money, but after watching the lives of the really rich on TV, I don’t want to struggle for that. Should I have offspring, I want to give them nothing. That way they can make it on their own. Honestly.

Sometimes I think these conversations with myself would go better if I had someone to answer me.

Remembrance of Things Past

Growing up an 80’s child, I am constantly reminded of the toys, shows and movies from my childhood. It seems everything is reissued, repackaged and sold to adoring and aging fans. I’m not going to comment on this trend, except to say that my mom finds it ridiculous that people my age seem to just keep reliving their childhoods. While I seldom long to fight the Russians in an imaginary backyard war, there are a few things I wouldn’t mind reliving from not only my childhood, but my 90’s adolescence. I still love She-Ra and I did see a show in Seattle that featured live bands playing Melon Collie and the Infinite Sadness in its entirety. But in my nostalgic wanderings, and much to my dismay, I’ve come across three things, that for legal issues, I will most likely never experience again. In no particular order, I present these three things, why I love them, and the name of the corporation that can’t be bothered to revive them:



1 – The Tex Murphy Series – Many of you have heard me wax poetic about my love for this interactive movie game series for the PC. This series chronicles the adventures of Tex Murphy, a PI in post WWIII apocalyptic San Francisco, as he solves crimes and saves the world. As Tex, the gamer would solve puzzles, interview possible suspects for information and in one particularly difficult challenge, navigate a maze made of motion sensor beams. I beat that one after a night of cursing and pounding the keyboard. My mom still remembers that night clearly, as her headboard was on the right other side of the wall. Although there were five games in the series, I only played the last three; Under a Killing Moon, The Pandora Directive and The Overseer (with Michael York!!!) Much to my chagrin, The Overseer ended on a cliff-hanger. After that Access Software was sold to Microsoft, who then sold it to Take-Two Interactive, who shut it down. The creators of the series have come out with a few radio programs to finish up the story and provide closure, but due to financial reasons, they were never finished. And so, the fate of my dear Tex Murphy is left hanging and I doubt that the games will ever be rereleased in any format.



2 – Angus – I hadn’t thought about this movie in ages, until it was included in a list of top 90’s movies on Jezebel.com. Angus is the story of an overweight, 14-year-old boy from Minnesota with a knack for science. Constantly bullied for not being “normal”, he longs to escape to a private school for smart kids, like him! A major theme of the movie is summed up in Angus’ grandfather’s catchphrase, “Screw’em”. Another pivotal scene features Angus turning on the school bully, played by Dawson of Dawson’s Creek fame, and yelling “I’m still here asshole!” I could quote this movie all day, albeit my quotes would be slightly off as I haven’t seen it in many years. And unless I can find a copy VHS, I most likely won’t see it again. New Line Cinema sold the rights, but no one seems to know to whom the rights were sold. It sucks to think of all the oddball kids that won’t get to see this movie and take comfort in its message. And a final word from Grandpa in regards to Superman, “You don’t understand. He’s smart, handsome, even decent. But he’s not brave. No, listen to me. Superman is indestructible, and you can’t be brave if you’re indestructible. It’s people like you and your mother. People who are different, and can be crushed and know it. Yet they keep going out there every time.”



3 – A Muppet Family Christmas – Perhaps the most holy and pure thing caught on video. The Muppets voyage to Fozzie’s grandmother’s farmhouse for a warm and fuzzy Christmas. There they are joined by their friends from Sesame Street and Robin even stumbles across the Fraggles hanging out in the basement. The last time I saw this was at the end of my first semester at Eugene Lang College. After our first round of proper college finals, Mackenzie and I were at our wit’s end, till this movie came along to save us. We laughed, we sang along and oh boy did we ball our eyes out during the Jim Henson cameo at the end. The version we watched was recorded directly from the original airing on TV. Now, you might find a DVD of this movie being sold on Amazon, but a caveat to all possible buyers, it is not the same version. In a fun legal twist, some of the songs were only cleared for television, so they can’t be reproduced on the DVD. Look out for some seriously terrible editing. And the company to blame? Disney! They currently own the rights to this movie, and technically could fix the situation. But will they? Most likely not.

And so dear readers, I hope you’ve enjoyed this bitter, angry, yet sentimental rant. Like old Rose says about Jack Dawson in Titanic, these things exist now only in memory. Ok, maybe not entirely in memory, but you get the jist of it.

America's Next Top Model: The Drinking Game!

Greetings! It’s a lovely 92 degrees today!

Whenever I traveled for work, my favorite downtime was watching TV in my hotel room. I normally don’t watch TV much, so I’d revel in the “reality” bliss of non-mental taxing TV. My favorite is America’s Next Top Model. It’s always on, usually in marathon format. One trip to St. Petersburg, Florida, I spent every night watching it. Thank you VH1.

So tonight I’m watching a marathon on the Bravo network and I decided to combine this great reality program with another great downtime activity; drinking. Now in making this drinking game, I realized there are two versions: the alcoholic version and the normal person version. The average alcoholic could sit down and drink every time a model cries, every time Tyra yells, and every time a wannabe model acts so bitchy you want to carve her eyes out with a fork, slather them in mayonnaise and force feed them to her and this person would be very, very drunk by the end of one episode.

For the average weekend boozer, these are your rules:

1 – Drink for every moment of forced intimacy among the girls. For example, Tyra sits the girls down and forces them to tell her which pearl of wisdom imparted to them by her vicious panel of judges hurt their feelings the most. Bleh.

2 – Drink for every Tyra vanity moment. For example, before the trip to Spain, Tyra delights both audiences and her massive ego by dancing the flamenco! Bleh.

3 – Drink anytime you actually see someone eat. For example, the food actually enters their mouth. And by food, don’t mean booze.

4 – Drink for any blatant product placement. America’s Next (CoverGirl) Model, like most (CoverGirl) reality programs, (CoverGirl) is sponsored by a certain corporation (CoverGirl). See if you can guess (CoverGirl) which one it is. (CoverGirl)

5 – Drink every time you feel sympathetic towards a model. For many of you, this moment will never come. But for me, I tend to feel bad for those being bullied. And America’s Next Top Model always has a bully. Now this rule does not apply to the panel sessions, as everyone on that panel is a bully and had no friends in high school. Except for Nigel. Who is beautiful and can do no wrong in my eyes.

Ok, all you normal drinkers out there, this should keep you nice and buzzed during any America’s Next Top Model marathon.

I’d also like to pitch the idea of a cage match between Tyra and that Millionaire Matchmaker woman. To any Fox News Executives reading this (and I know there are a ton), I would happily pay $50 to watch that match.

All the young dudes...

I’m reluctant to call this a rant, but here we go.

I’ve been listening to local radio much more now that my tape deck is broke in my car. Most of it is terrible “soft” rock or “punk” rock. Occasionally, I’ll stumble onto a good channel. I found a local college station playing a great mix of music. From early 90’s punk to 30’s jazz to hours devoted to the religion we know as funk. All hail George Clinton! Unfortunately, this station has the worst DJs in the area too. They drone on in monotone voices about the music means to them or they can seem to figure out how to play the next song. I also get to listen to DJs bemoan movies that they find strange (Triplets of Belleville) and misuse words when talking about their own show (cohesive).

Later, while making dinner, I was listening to the next program on the same station. It was ACTIVIST RADIO! Apparently, a big part of the ACTIVIST MOVEMENT is showing obscure documentaries in small upstate hippy towns. Other than that, they protest and go to some lectures. One of their major gripes is the lack of YOUNG ACTIVISTS! My generation and the current college one is far too lethargic for their tastes. One possible reason is the lack of the draft. Yes, I agree with that. It was the second reason that bugged me. They stated that the youths of today don’t have the proper ACTIVIST LEADERS! This I don’t agree with. It’s not that the YOUNG ACTIVISTS of today don’t have a leader to get behind, the problem is that they all want to be a leader. We were raised that way. It’s best to be the star player because dagnamit, we’re special! We have blogs! Just like this one! Cough..cough

I remember, from my brief foray into the YOUNG ACTIVIST world of college, that meetings were a giant waste of time. The bigger in size, the more likely it was to waste more of my time. A rule was that the group had no leader and that everyone could have their turn to speak. Guess what it turned into? A three-ring circus? Nope, but throw in a juggler and fire-eater and it might just have been. Everyone took their turn ignoring all else that was said and ranted about their own issues. Academic dialogue is a thing of the past. But that’s a issue for a whole other time.

My point is our generation is self-centered and egotistic to the max. We don’t form groups easily. The closest thing we have to a lynch mob is rabid Twilight fans. Ok, so now I’m ranting and feeling all hypocritical. I must say though, the New York is seeping back into my pores and resulting in rants.

Three Things

Well after several nights tossing and turning, I made the decision to come back home. Essentially, I wasn’t feeling Seattle and it wasn’t feeling me. I missed New York.

But from this West Coast experience, I’ve derived three things that make the West Coast better than the East Coast:

1 – Movie Theatres/Restaurants – Can someone please explain to me why the fuck we don’t have these on the East Coast? It’s the simple yet brilliant concept of serving food and booze to the movie-going audience. For those that have never been, I’ll elaborate. You choose a seat in the theatre, pick up your menu, select your food or beverage (or perhaps both) of choice and order it from the lovely waiter. About 20 minutes before the end of the film, your tab is deposited on your table. Really a very simple concept, but it has yet to make its way to the East Coast. Please correct me if I’m wrong on this, as I’d love to visit one here.

2 – Beer – Yes, the West Coast is chock-full of microbreweries and the beer selection is seemingly endless. Another plus for the West Coast is that alcohol is sold almost everywhere. Stop in to the local Walgreen for band-aids and vodka. Or why not head to the grocery store for some mashed potatoes and whisky?

3 – Radio – Another seemingly inexplicable weakness of East Coast living is our terrible radio. The West Coast has us beat. For instance, all along my trip I frequently heard Kings of Leon and MGMT. Upon my arrival home I heard Plain White T’s. Please note the difference in quality and if you are unable, please contact me immediately for a musical education. I now know why most people in New York have terrible taste in music. They are seldom exposed to anything of quality. That makes us of refined musical tastes true pioneers and social reformers.

Now that’s about it. The West Coasters are generally a friendly, relaxed bunch. I learned polite chit-chat from them, but when it came down to it, I missed the rude and abrasive qualities of a good New Yorker.

I’m not sure if I will be continuing with this blog. I might sign on to rant about a few choice topics, but I’ll probably just let it fade away.

A Fun Trip

This week, Guantánamo!!! It was an incredible experience.

We arrived in Gitmo on Friday and stared going around the town, everybody knew Crystle and I were coming so the first thing we did was attend a big lunch and then we visited one of the bars they have in the base. We talked about Gitmo and what is was like living there. The next days we had a wonderful time, this truly was a memorable trip! We hung out with the guys from the East Coast and they showed us the boat inside and out, how they work and what they do, we took a ride around the land and it was a loooot of fun!

We also met the Military dogs, and they did a very nice demonstration of their skills. All the guys from the Army were amazing with us.

We visited the Detainees camps and we saw the jails, where they shower, how the recreate themselves with movies, classes of art, books. It was very interesting.

We took a ride with the Marines around the land to see the division of Gitmo and Cuba while they were informed us with a little bit of history.

The water in Guantánamo Bay is soooo beautiful! It was unbelievable, we were able to enjoy it for at least an hour. We went to the glass beach, and realized the name of it comes from the little pieces of broken glass from hundred of years ago. It is pretty to see all the colors shining with the sun. That day we met a beautiful lady named Rebeca who does wonders with the glasses from the beach. She creates jewelry with it and of course I bought a necklace from her that will remind me of Guantánamo Bay :)

I didn’t want to leave, it was such a relaxing place, so calm and beautiful.
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Ok, I didn't write that. That was actually taken from the blog of Miss Universe, Dayana Mendoza. The USO sent her and the current Miss America to Gitmo for a little pick-me-up for the troops. Here's the New York Times article on it:

http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/03/30/miss-universe-visits-guantanamo/

Ms. Mendoza's travels and subsequent blogs clearly put mine to shame. Maybe I should reconsider my travel agenda. A quick trip to Chernoybl might be in order. That place really radiates fun! Perhaps I'll swing by Lebanon for week. I'm sure it's an excellent place for some fun in the sun, but it's nothing compared to the sandy shores of Gitmo.

Muse IK

"The true New Yorker secretly believes that people living anywhere else have to be, in some sense, kidding." - John Updike

A thought that’s been on my mind lately.

Well I’m up late, a-music-ing.

So far I’ve listened to and fell in love with a few:

Spoon – Gimme Fiction – I listened to what I found online and one day, I’ll buy from Amazon at the low low price of $8.99 via download.

Los Campesinos – I’m listening to their new album right now via their myspace page. I really like it. It has the fun, upbeat quality that I associate with bands like the Black Kids. Makes me want to get up and dance around like I’m in some 80’s movie with Andrew McCarthy.

Port O’Brien – This is another mental note to buy their album in the future. I’ll probably just add it to my ever growing Amazon wish list. I came across this band compliments of My Old Kentucky Blog, which I was reminded of tonight after chatting with Julia, who actually got to meet the man behind the Tuesday at noon Sirius magic. Even though he has a goatee and hails from Indiana, I am still wildly jealous. But the band itself is great. Again, an upbeat fun-loving troupe of players. Just listening to them makes me crave a live viewing.

Dark Meat – Another MOKB suggestion from SXSW. Although I enjoyed their music, it’s not something I’d buy to listen to all the time. Interesting jam out sections, but a little too rock heavy for my tastes.

Sam Cooke – I first heard The Animals cover “Bring It on Home to Me” and I fell in love with the song, but I listened to the Sam Cooke version tonight and I’m almost ashamed of how much I liked the cover. I even put it on my “I’m Leaving” Mix! Sam Cooke puts them to shame. His voice is so wonderful, so powerful.

It’s been a good night musically speaking. And again, thanks to Julia for inspiring this musically themed blog post.

I need a job

Here again in Seattle. My eff-ing back hasn’t been getting better, but it has provided an excellent excuse to be lazy. After four days of lying about and looking at stupid shit on the internet, I’m finally bored. So in a major move, I showered, dressed and had a glass of wine. Now I’m back on the couch, listening to Animal Collective and pondering human existence. Maybe I’ll take copious notes on my musings and declare myself a couch philosopher. My other big idea is dealing drugs. I’ve seen the movies. I can do that from the couch. I can even wear my yoga pants while dealing and it will give me a touch of class. Being this close to Canada has it merits.

Hmmm how can I surprise Mackenzie when she comes home? The sight of me in a dress might be enough, but I think I can pull off something bigger. Maybe a laser light show? I’ve never been to one, so I’m not sure what happens, but I think I can whip something up with a flashlight and some techno. There’s no way I can get my hands on a fog machine. I’ll just light three or four incense sticks. At least it will smell better than a fog machine. I don’t really like techno or Pink Floyd, so I’ll hip up my show with the Animal Collective. They are very laser light show worthy. In fact, if I were to review their latest CD it might say something like “very laser light show worthy.” My talent is endless.

For My Beloved Grandmother

My grandmother requested that I write about more than Maximo, and as she’s 25% of my audience, I must obey her commands.

I’m bumming around Seattle these days. I got here last Wednesday and finally got to shave my legs. That was a big moment on my trip. I can’t quite figure out why, but something about Oregon caused me to stop shaving my legs. But I knew Mackenzie would kick me out on my ass if I tried to pull that shit round here, so back to shaving!

In other news, I pulled my back out a bit on Friday. That put a damper on the weekend, but it did provide and excuse to drink all weekend. It wasn’t too bad, not spasming or anything, but it hurt and I didn’t want to it get worse, so we stayed in for much of the weekend. Mackie and I went shopping on Saturday and I got some cardigans because it’s cold and wet in Seattle. Go figure. I overheard a great bit of conversation while hanging around the store:

Woman 1: Wait, is he black or white?
Woman 2: No, he’s British.
Woman 1: Ok.

Because British is an acceptable answer to that question.

That night we stayed in again and watched Flight of the Concords, Dirty Dancing and St. Elmo’s Fire. Which started me on a bit of an Andrew McCarthy kick. I’ve renamed the cat Blane in anticipation of the day I watch Pretty in Pink. I think I might cut my hair short and sew two dresses together for the occasion. I watched Mannequin and some crappy movie about him inheriting a church in England tonight. He pulled off a terrible southern accent for that one and I’m still not sure if he was supposed to have some sort of mental handicap or if I’m just attributing some Forrest Gump characteristics because of the accent. And after watching these movies I will cry myself to sleep tonight wishing I had been born early enough to better experience his 80's glory.

This morning we went to brunch with Mackie’s work friends and their boyfriends/husbands. I was the seventh wheel, but it wasn’t bad because I got a mimosa.

I ordered some books today in a fit of weakness. Russell Brand’s new book looks amazing and who could pass up a title like “My Booky Wook?” I also read an excerpt and he tosses around some fairly big words, so my vocabulary also stands to benefit. The other book is a feminist revaluation of Gone with the Wind that thankfully someone else wrote, saving me the time and energy.

I’ve updated my resume and I’m going to start looking for work soon. I’m going to look in both Seattle and Portland. Because if I live in Oregon, I won’t have to shave my legs.

My Cat, Maximo

Well I’m here in Seattle and I need to get something off my chest. Maximo is the best cat ever and this entire post is going to be dedicated to him. Who cares if this is self-indulgent? It’s my damn blog and I will take the time to write about the best cat ever.

First of all, he is a handsome cat. He has a lovely, rich, shiny coat in a funny tuxedo pattern. He’s a big cat, but not fat or skinny. Just big ole handsome boy he is! Yes, I will occasionally slip into baby talk while discussing his merits.

As for attitude, his is perfect. Many have called him cranky and mean, but he’s not. You just have to approach him in the right way. This is to leave him alone until he randomly decides to show you some affection. Now, because he’s just so damn cute I have to rub his little head every five seconds and he’ll tolerate this. For a bit. But soon he’ll get cranky and take a swipe at me and I’ll leave him alone for about two hours. Then he comes crawling back and will sit next to me again. And I’ll rub his head.

He also lets me hold him. My favorite way is to hold him like a baby and rock him till he twists from my vice-like grip and hides under a bed or couch. He’s so patient; only attacking me when I really deserve it. He puts up with me smushing his head all the time and occasionally rubbing his belly.

And every night he sleeps at my feet and keeps them warm. I have to be careful not move my feet too much or he’ll start attacking them. Oh I love that little furball!
Don’t bother trying to argue that your cat is better. Because s/he isn’t. Maximo is the best cat ever!

Portland

To wrap up my Eugene experience, Eva, Cade and I headed out to the coast on Saturday. We started off on the Hobbit’s Trail to the ocean. The woods were lovely, dark and deep, to paraphrase Robert Frost. Everything under the tree canopy was bright green. I ended up taking 96 pictures. The trail took us right to the shore. We played with the dog on the beach for awhile and I found a dark sand dollar, a little beat up, but I kept it for a souvenir. We then took a really long hike to the light house. I’m not sure how long it was, but my God, my legs were aching. I made it back to the car without passing out and then went down to the Devil’s Churn. I got to go right up to the edge of the cliff and see the waves crashing up on it. The whole day was incredibly beautiful, but really really tiring.

The next day Eva woke me up to go to the train. There was a slight moment of daylight savings time induced panic, but luckily Eva’s phone alarm reset on its own. I took the train up to Portland and slept most of the time. Ali came to pick me up at the train station and gave me the mini-tour of the posh side of Portland.

To use my new found Portland lingo, we then went to the South East side. We hung out at her and Kurt’s place for awhile and some friends stopped by. The most memorable part of the afternoon was one of their male friends asking Ali to educate his girlfriend in “feminine pride”. It was incredibly awkward for everyone in the room, but made for many jokes later. We went out to a few bars later and I had a few too many beers, but that’s how you keep warm in Portland. We did get to play a game of pucks and talk about everyone from back home.

On Monday I went with Ali into downtown Portland. We took the bus in and the people behind us on the bus were having the most intense discussion I’ve heard outside of a Hallmark movie. From what I could gather, the young man had some sort of “problem” and the girl was tired, she just couldn’t take it anymore. She really wanted to break up with him, but she knew that she’d regret it for the rest of her life. He said that was a terrible thing to say and if she wanted to break-up then they should. She cried at some point and he, softly, told her not to do that. After a few moments of silence, she said “Thank you for throwing my scale out the window”, and he said “You know I don’t care about those things.” Then Ali and I got off the bus and immediately started their discussion and relationship.

After Ali went to school, I walked around for a bit then went to the movies, mostly to get out of the rain/snow. After the movie, I met up with my friend Morgan. We checked out his hood, and then went to visit his friends. We watched some TV on DVD and then he took me back to Ali’s, where I joined them in some TV on the internet watching. I wonder if the Age of the American Commercial is over as we know it. Everyone watches shows commercial free now. What will the advertisers do next?

And that brings me to today, after a slow morning, I went down to visit Ali’s work. She works for Free Geek, a non-profit organization that recycles computers. As Ali put it in the tour, Free Geek addresses two problems. The first is that people are throwing away their electronics which fill landfills and pollute water. The second is that computers are a necessity of our bright future and life without one today is incomplete and un-rewarding. So donors will drop off their old computers at Free Geek, where volunteers and staff will assess the state of the computer and its components and decide whether to rebuild and refurnish it, or break it down for parts. It’s quite an impressive operation and everyone I met was friendly and chill.

Now I’m back at Ali’s and I’m going to by my train ticket for tomorrow. I’m heading up to Seattle and the culmination of my trip.

Slow Times in Eugene

Been laying low in Eugene lately. Eva and Cade work in the morning, so I’ve been spending my time watching movies on the internet and attempting to plan my future.
Saturday, after I arrived, we went for a brief hike then out to dinner. Sunday morning we went to brunch and I had some really good French toast. Eva made dinner that night and she and I have been watching back episodes of The Office on Netflix.

On Monday night we went out to Trivia at the local bar. Although our team made a valiant effort, we lost. Last night we went to a dinner party with some of Cade’s grad school friends. Everyone out here is very chill. Although they all came off as incredibly intelligent, there was nothing pretentious about it. At least I didn’t think so. But that could be because they are surrounded by smart people and don’t have to deal with the stupids. The topic of socialism came up and I always find funny when a group of intellectuals discuss the plight of the working man.

One of my favorite parts of Oregon is the beer. There are so many microbreweries and imported ales. The selection is endless. It’s nice to sit and really enjoy a beer rather than chug one in an attempt to get drunk. I picked up a bottle from Trader Joe’s of Black Sheep Ale. It was “clean, crisp and bittersweet”, just as the label promised. I also had some Red Rose Amber Ale. I liked it as well, but it tasted like your average red beer.

The food out here was been great as well. Everyone buys local and organic and there are also plenty of vegetarians, so I’m at home.

So I should be getting big and fat sitting here eating, drinking beer and watching stuff on the internet, but I’m not. I’ve been going for a few walks and hikes. My first day, I got locked out after a trip to the coffee shop, so I walked around Amazon Park for about an hour till Eva got home. Then I went with her to walk Red, the dog, the other night. We went up to a trail in the woods and walked around till it got too dark.

We’re going to go to the coast for a hike on Saturday, so hopefully I’ll get some good pictures then. I’m really excited to see it. My dad told me to make sure I saw the Oregon coast while out here.

Up the Coast

I made it to Eugene in one piece. Oregon immediately felt more like home to me than any other place. Perhaps the trees, rain and dirty hippy folk helped. I left LA on the 27th. The rest of my time there was good. We went to a cool coffee shop and Nicole took me to the divest bar she knew, The Frolic Room. It didn’t smell like pee and the bathrooms weren’t covered in graffiti, but it was ok. The dim lighting helped the mood. We also did some tourist stuff like drive up Mulholland and look at the star prints in front of the theatre.

So the 26-hour train ride was interesting. The scenery was spectacular. It started off in a desert like area outside of LA. Then we moved onto the farms near Oxnard, all very flat and green, filled with migrant workers. As we made our way up the coast, we headed into rolling green hills. It almost looked like Ireland in spring. Bright bright green and dotted with cows. You seldom saw any people.

Inside the train was a different story. Thankfully it wasn’t packed and I got the seat next to me for the entire ride as well. The conductor in our section was a very no-nonsense woman, so much so that I named her the Seat Nazi. God forbid you were in the wrong seat. Her wrath was terrible and she wielded her power over us like a sword of flames. There was a little old woman in front of me; she’d clearly taken this ride many times as she came prepared with a pillow, blanket and provisions. For some reason, the Seat Nazi hated her. Perhaps she didn’t give the Seat Nazi the due respect upon entering her car. Across from the little old lady was Beard Guy. His beard was something to behold. It came down to the middle of his chest. Oddly enough, he was dressed like a frat boy; his hair was short and kept under a baseball cap. Initially, I thought he had crazy eyes and vowed to stay away, but he turned out to be quite nice and bonded with the woman next to him. Those two were with me on the train from LA to Eugene and although others came and went, not many were memorable.

By nightfall, we reached Northern California. I saw the outskirts of San Jose and Oakland, but in daylight, Santa Barbara looked the most appealing. I had dinner in the dining car and I learned not to make that mistake again. The food was terrible and not worth the price at all. Better to stick to the snack car. But I did get to watch the sunset from there.

That night I tried to figure out the best way to sleep in my seat. After observing my neighbors, I raised both leg rests to their maximum and curled up in the space with my head on the seat next to me. Not optimal, but it got the job done. I was just nodding off when the fun began. The conductor from the car in front of us, let’s call her Dumbass, escorted a man back to his seat. Which for some reason she thought was behind me. Dumbass ignored the tag above the seat declaring it empty and left him there. This man was clearly crazy and I could hear him behind me, talking to himself in the most colorful terms and playing with his plastic bag. From now on, he will be known as Crazy. With the story of the man stabbed on the bus in Canada running through my head, I knew there was no way I was going to fall asleep that close to crazy. Keeping my ears peeled for words like “Cut”, “Knife” or “Sam”, I tried to determine how I could survive a stabbing and if the Bearded Guy would be close enough to rescue me but I knew my salvation lay in the hands of the Seat Nazi. Sure enough she returned and flipped out that Crazy was in the wrong seat. I considered telling her that it was Dumbass’s fault, but I opted to play asleep as she led him into the other car and to his seat. After that I nodded off for a bit, but then I awoke suddenly. Someone was sitting behind me, muttering to himself and playing with a plastic bag. Great, this would go on all night. Then I heard Crazy say something like “Oh my God, what’s wrong with them? Are they OK?” and I realized he was referring to the slumbering passengers around him. He got up and went to the lady next to him, shaking her awake. He kept asking “Are you OK?” She was not pleased. Just then, the Seat Nazi returned and again, saved us from Crazy. This was getting ridiculous and I figured they would kick him off the train at the next stop. We picked up a few more passengers at that stop and the Seat Nazi assigned a man to the seat behind me. He looked like a pedophile and kept making weird grunting sounds, but it was much better than Crazy. I kept looking out the window, expecting to see the police leading Crazy away, but nothing happened. I nodded off again, only to be woken by Crazy, not happy that his seat was taken. But thankfully, he moved on to the next car. Shortly after, he was followed by three Amtrak employees in suits. They told us that he was being taken off the train. So I was able to sleep comfortably with the grunts of the pedophile-looking man behind me assuring me of my safety.

I woke at dawn the next day and got to watch the sunrise over the Northern California mountains. It was beautiful. Soon we crossed into Oregon and the weather began to change. Up in the mountains, it was snowing. The trip through the mountains right before Eugene was my favorite part. I wish my pictures had turned out better. The pines covered everything and there were piles and piles of snow everywhere. There was no way you’d get a car up there, so it was a truly unique view. After we came down I arrived in Eugene and Eva was waiting at the train station. I think the Seat Nazi took a shine to me as she helped me off the train and called me dear. But I also hope never to see her again.

The City of Angels and Me

I’ve been in LA since Thursday. The city is warm and spread out over miles. Frozen yogurt stores and Denny’s populate the street corners. Nicole’s taken me on a lot of walks, but that type of behavior isn’t commonplace in LA.

I only have internet access at the local coffee shop and as Nicole doesn’t have television, most of my time has been spent reading. A change I’ve been meaning to make, but circumstance became the driving factor. I’m also taking more time on these blog posts. Today I’m writing this in Nicole’s room while she’s at work. I’m listening to the Dark is the Night compilation, and so far it is excellent. It contains 31 songs by some of my favorite artists including My Morning Jacket, Feist, The Decembrists and The Arcade Fire. I’m also getting to know some other bands like The Books and Yeasayer. Nicole’s cats, Junior and Calvin, are keeping me company and as I write this, Junior is rubbing his head on my computer screen. What a whore of a cat! Now I have to pet him, just to hear that lovely purr.

My time here started with a late night walk around the city. We walked down that street with the star names on it and saw where the Oscars were being set up. Nicole lives in Hollywood, which I still find funny. We went to the grocery store and grabbed some Thai food for dinner. The next day we walked down to Melrose and did some shopping. I caved and bought two dresses just so I could feel pretty again and have something to wear if we go out. On Saturday, we went to the coffee shop in the morning and then to Amoeba records. I love that store. Luckily, I knew exactly what I wanted and found it cheap and used so I didn’t come out with my arms full of CD’s. I got to talk with the guy that rang me up about music a bit and it made my day. We went back to Nicole’s for reading and naps, then her boyfriend Mike came over. We went out to a diner for dinner and I think I was one of the few people in LA to order cheese fries. They were so good they made me sick. That night we went to the Whiskey-A-Go-Go to hear Nicole’s neighbor’s band. This is when I learned that the 80’s are back in a big way. Oh the hair. I think the 70’s are still in up in Portland, so that’s where I’m heading till this 80’s crisis passes. The band we came to hear was really good and the other groups were ok. On Sunday we went up to Oxnard for Nicole’s friend’s bible study thing. It was more of a church service/sing-along and yes, I’m still an atheist. I’ll leave the details of those ten hours to your imagination and perhaps a good story when I come back. I was covered in sweat most of the time. I talked to Nicole about my beliefs once we were safely back in the car and naturally she understood my discomfort. It’s a difficult conversation to have and one not easily resolved by a “Hey I’m an Atheist!” t-shirt.

Today I’m recovering and reading. So far on my trip I started The Odyssey, read The Road by Cormac McCarthy, Self-Made Man by Norah Vincent, My Horizontal Life by Chelsea Handler and Here’s the Story by Maureen McCormick, aka Marcia Brady. The last two are Nicole’s books and I’ve had some fun reading them. Soon I’ll go back to The Odyssey and a biography of Marie Antoinette, but I think I’ve started Look Me in the Eye by John Elder Robinson first.

Now it’s time to clean up and get my coffee fix.

Austin, Texas

Where to begin with Texas?

I left San Diego for Austin on the 15th. All together it took about 6 hours to get there. On the flight to Houston, I sat next to two young college men, on their way back to University of Texas, Austin. As soon as they sat down, the one next to me pulled out a book on the Triangle Factory Fire. He said to his friend “He gave me this one. He said it’s supposed to be interesting. As much as history can be interesting. I can’t believe I have to read this in two weeks. I can’t even skim it.” To which his friend replied “Yeah, and know there will only be like 5 questions on the test about it”, then their conversation was cut off by my putting headphones on. But I have to say they were polite and handed me my water from the flight attendant and didn’t put their elbows in my space.

The flight from Houston to Austin takes about 45 minutes total, most of the time is spent lifting off and touching down. I listened to two long songs while in the air. When I arrived in Austin, the lovely Julia was waiting for me with Pierpont, a bear made from balloons. He used to have legs but they exploded. She took me back to the show she was working at and I met some of Austin’s finest musicians. And noticed that my driver’s license was missing. I combed the car, my pants pockets and my bags, but it was gone. I was stuck in Texas.

Once back at Julia’s, I phoned the airline to see if someone found it on the plane, but all I could do was file a report with my contact info. I knew I had it before I boarded in Houston, so I think it fell out of my back pocket on the plane to Austin. The woman from the airline told me to call back on Tuesday, because no one was working until then. I couldn’t sleep that night, so the next morning I crashed out while Julia went to work. I started to get a headache from the stress and caffeine withdrawal.

Julia came home and took me to downtown Austin. I went to a record store called Waterloo, bought a book on Marie Antoinette and got some food at Whole Foods. Then I waiting for Julia to finish up at the building she was working on. I made some phone calls and I got my shit together. That night I had a huge migraine, so we stayed in.
The next day began with calling the airline. No dice on finding my license, but they told me that if I had a photo ID and a copy of my birth certificate, I should be able to get through security, but it all depended on the airport. My brother faxed the birth certificate to Julia’s office and after morning taco time, we went to get it. I got to play with a puggle while there and I met some of Julia’s co-workers. After that we checked out a guitar store and I played with a beagle puppy. Then a thrift store and I played with a cat. Animals are drawn to me. See two posts ago.

We then went to a movie theatre to see Slumdog Millionaire. This was a very special movie theatre because they serve beer and food with the movie. As I scanned the menu, I was faced with a conundrum, I didn’t have a license. But I did have a copy of my birth certificate and my picture ID. The lovely young Texan waiting on us let me run to the car for my birth certificate and use it for ID. So I got to have a mimosa and watch Slumdog. Which I have to say I liked better the 2nd time. I knew when all the horrible parts were coming so I could shut my eyes and enjoy all the other parts.

After the movie, I talked to Frank from PH and McGraw who was also in Austin. We decided to meet him for dinner. His hotel was way up North of Austin, but we had Julia’s handy iPhone GPS to show us the way! 45 minutes later and one stop at a gas station for directions and gas, we made it! Only about a half an hour late! Julia taught me an important message on this trip. Blame Texas. It’s always Texas’s fault.
We got lost on the way to the restaurant, but once there it was worth the wait. Good Mexican food and giant glasses of water. We only got slightly lost bringing Frank back and we made it all the way back to Julia’s without a wrong turn. We passed out pretty quickly and got up early the next day. The big day. The day I try to get through airport security in Texas without a drivers license. Buh bah daaaaaa! When I got up to the security guard, my hands were literally shaking. I kept repeating to myself “You’re a young white woman, you’re a young stupid white woman, no sarcasm, no quips or obscure references, you’re just a young stupid white woman”. They let me through, no problem. I guess it happens all the time. Or maybe it was because I was a young stupid white woman. I got back to San Diego and took a long shower. So ended my first trip to Texas.
A few impressions that I had of Texas:
- Lots of pets, mostly beagles
- Lots of VW vans
- Texas in winter looks like upstate New York in winter, but flatter and much much warmer. Everything is dead and grey, but humid and warm. Very strange.
- The best part about Texas is the people. Everyone I met was very friendly and although they moved a lot slower, you got their full attention while speaking to them. There was a certain edge to a lot of the locals but no one was rude or angry. I really liked the Texans.

I applied for another license and I’m going to try and have my passport rushed. Nicole is coming down from LA to pick me up today. I’m not sure how the internet connection will be up there, so if I go off the radar, that’s why.

Valentine's Day

Greetings at the end of Valentine’s Day. In fact, when I post this, it will already be February 15th and no longer Valentine’s Day. Singles Awareness Day is officially over and we can all get off our couches, wipe the chocolate smears from our faces and turn off the Lifetime.
Chatting online today was like running a singles suicide hotline. Everyone seemed on edge and had his or her own way of coping. Mostly chocolate, booze and chick flicks. The good news is we all made it.
Safely ensconced in San Diego, far from anything remotely romantic, I spent the day touring an aircraft carrier with my Grandpa, napping, watching movies on Lifetime, coming up with insults in air force code, watching the end of Season Two of 30 Rock, watching Brokeback Mountain parodies and finally, watching SNL. I had a good day. I had a bag of Reeses Peanut Butter Hearts. I got to sit in a fighter jet. This may have been the best Valentine’s Day that I choose to remember.
I’m off to Austin, Texas, tomorrow to visit Julia. Yeehaw! I’ll be there until the 18th, then back to San Diego for one more night, then up to LA.
OOOOh the Jonas Brothers are on SNL right now! I’m going to fall asleep to it and end the perfect Valentine’s Day!

Californication

It’s happening. My wit is dulled, my responses slow, and I drive slower.
I walked on the beach today and there was a baby sea lion. I didn’t take a picture. It wasn’t looking too healthy and this young woman was sitting with it, calling everyone from Sea World to the police. She said an officer showed up, but there was nothing anyone could do. Sea World said it was fine and to leave it alone. It started getting frisky when anyone came too close, so I think it’s ok.
A little way down the beach a man was playing with a Rottweiler puppy. The puppy ran up to me and I pet her a bit. She was so soft and she collapsed on my leg for a bit.
I also saw a hummingbird this morning. Right outside the window.
Taken separately, these incidents mean nothing. But if you look at the whole picture, it will become clear. I am the reincarnation of St. Francis of Assisi. I draw animals to me with my natural goodness and divine charisma. Birds flock to my window. Dogs love me. Even the sea lions have been coming out of the ocean to find me. This latest one is lying at the foot of the stairs that I take every day to the beach. Now that I’ve made this revelation, I must to decide how best to use my powers.
I might lead an army of ocean creatures to attack Japanese whalers. Something like the ending of The Little Mermaid when the crab (drawing a blank on his name) leads the army of ocean creatures to attack the wedding of Eric. I still have some strategy to work out, but it’s the best plan I have so far. Please send suggestions.

For Alexa

What I saw today:
I went with the g-rents down to Seaside Village today. We saw a really big ship called the Pride of India that my great-grandfather sailed on. He used to run pelts from Alaska down to California.
But better than that was the music gazebo. There was a typical 40-year-old cover band playing the cover band hits. All these people started dancing. Mostly the elderly. Then a security guard. Then this overly tan man in little black shorts. To top it off, this elderly lady in a long brown coat and matching hat came down to the gazebo with her walker. It was a four wheel walker, so she kept a good pace. She had a few minders as well. But as soon as the music got pumping, she shook off her minders and started running circles around the gazebo. Then she picked up the pace and started skipping around the gazebo with her walker. I wanted to take a picture, but I couldn’t stop staring long enough. The whole scene was incredibly surreal. Like some distorted version of a faun party in Narnia. At one point, Mr. Little Black Shorts tried to dance with Crazy Skipper Lady and he fell over. That image is burned into my mind. I almost suspect if I took a picture, it would show an empty gazebo. The magic of the dance party can’t be contained by film.
My other favorite part of the day was the pirate store. They had framed pictures of Jimmy Buffet and about 20 different versions of a sign featuring boozy parrot saying “It’s Five O’clock Somewhere”. I really wish I had money to burn so I could buy that and send it to my cocktail loving friends.

Sea Lion

I said to myself this morning “Hey Jill, why don’t you take your camera on your morning walk?”, but I didn’t and wouldn’t you know something cool happened.
I was strolling along the beach, minding my own business, when this sea lion came out of the water. He slid right up to me.
“Hey there! I heard you’re new in town and I just wanted to pop over and say welcome.”
“Well thank you Sea Lion! How kind! I heard Californians were nice but I had no idea that included the sea lions.”
“Oh, I almost forgot, here are some coupons for the fish market and a few free samples of Tide. It’s the official welcome basket. There were some peanuts, but they got a bit wet.”
“That’s so sweet of you. Thank you Sea Lion.”
“Thank you Jill. Your presence in San Diego makes it just a bit brighter!”
Then he turned and slid off into the water.
Ok.
About 50% of that was a lie. I did see a sea lion this morning. He did come out of the ocean to me. But I got scared and ran away. He looked like he might bite me. There was no chance for conversation, which is upsetting on several levels. Who knows what I might have learned.
San Diego is a magical place.
We're supposed to get some rain today. The news told me to check the wipers, brakes and tires before I even consider driving in the RAIN! Everyone here is terrifed of the RAIN. I laugh at their fear and close my eyes and remember the snow back at home. Which they all laugh at out here. The newscasters show images from the east and laugh. So I guess we're even.

Birds

I take two walks each day. Up one way on the beach in the morning, and down the other in the evening. In my ramblings I’ve noticed four types of beach birds here. I’m used to seagulls. I’ve seen so many; they even hang out in the parking lot of Shop Rite in Monroe. But these other three are new to me. I don’t know their proper names, so I’ve made some up.
Sandpipers with long beaks – These birds are loners. About every twenty feet or so I come across one, hunting in the tides. I have no idea what they’re hunting for since there doesn’t appear to be anything in the tide. They are medium, smaller than a seagull and entirely grey with a really long, narrow beak. Very nervous creatures as well. They eye you when you get near and dash off if you invade their personal space.
Tiny sandpiper-like birds – These guys are funny. They hang out in pairs, darting around the tide. Unlike the sandpiper with long beak, the tiny sandpiper-like birds are seldom stationary. Once you’re approaching, they are headed off in the opposite direction but not quite in a straight line. They are very tiny and almost like look gulls in coloring.
Cranes? – These birds are huge and I never see them too close to the shore. They hang out off shore, sometimes in pairs, sometimes alone. They swoop in to land on the waves and I’ve seen a few dive right into the water. I can’t help but stare at them. Although I like the other birds, these are by far my favorite. They are larger than the seagulls and all grey. Their beaks are long with a pouch hanging along the bottom.
Tomorrow I will take some pictures and post them. I keep forgetting to bring my camera and there wasn’t much to see today.

An Important Message from Joel

I'm posting a note from my friend Joel's Facebook. Please take a moment to read and reflect:

If you don't import one or more blogs using the new "blog import" feature found on the right-hand side of the screen.

I hate blogs. This is ironic, because by typing these words in this box and hitting "publish" I am participating in that sort of thing. That is, putting words on the internet for the express purpose of putting words on the internet.

I know, we like to think that blogging is about expressing ourselves, keeping in touch, showing the world how insightful we are. Certainly some of this is true. Who am I to tell someone not to express themselves?

I myself read the occasional "blog", watch the occasional "podcast", read through "wikis", and do many other things that I am sure will be viewed by successive generations in the same way that roller derby, hot-rodding, and ham radio operating is seen by ours. I find some useful information out there in the "blogosphere". There are people who put things on the internet just to help others, to share a learning experience or to create a new one.

But most blogging... most of this putting of words on the internet, the vast majority, is vanity. If you asked someone in the pre-blog era what vanity was they might have given you a definition, or perhaps referenced a celebrity. Now the best way to define that word is to show, and there is no better way than a short exploration of myspace, or facebook, or flickr, or any other venue for rapid, easy self-promotion.

The pipes have been laid down, the connections routed, the switches thrown, and we've flooded the system with as much crap as it can possibly handle. We did this to ourselves, and we won't have anyone else to blame when society finds itself lacking individuals or people with brains. As we smooth out the differences, coagulate the lone into groups with shared interests, we can't help but lose some of those finer details that differentiate human beings from a mob of people.

Sure, we'll all feel better about ourselves in the short run, and we'll all get that attention that we want so badly, but in the end that isn't going to make you a stronger or more interesting person. Go experience life beyond the electronic shadow. Share reality, learn a lesson the hard way, get burned, lose for once - it's far more interesting. And for god's sake, stop taking pictures of yourself in the mirror.

Perhaps it will evolve from here. Perhaps the web 6.0 crowd will look back with wisdom on our time the way we look back on the industrial revolution, with nostalgia for a people without self-determination, uncontrollably herded through their life in the midst of a frantic crowd. Perhaps they will have ironed out the wrinkles, and won't feel the need, en masse, to send noise into the void just to get more noise back again.

To make my blog more educational, I've added the Hindu god/goddess of the day.