Blankness

I have nothing today, really. Just this picture of a young Bill Gates that I came across on Saturday afternoon. Truely incredible. Enjoy. And grab some Benga if you want to get a fill of some afro-dub-step-UK beats.

Long Island No More

Lyle came to me on the sabbath. Not to make my day better or to ask if I wanted to go get breakfast. Lyle came bearing bad news. Lyle came with reality. Lyle had watery eyes. Lyle said, "Did you hear about the travesty of Bozeman? The pour house is being turned into a cocktail bar."
The Pour House is, or was, the greatest bar in the small mountain town. A place where you could enjoy spending time with hippies and ladies and friends. Needless to say, that bar should be turned into a museum; a memorial for a place where many birthdays are thrown and you could guarentee that friends would meet there every thursday to enjoy a long island iced tea for 3 dollars. Yeah sure, go ahead and have as much as you'd like.
I am frustrated that I now have an excuse to not go back to Bozeman to visit. Where would I go to hang out?
Rest in Peace Pour House, you will be missed.

Home Sweet Home

Just landed back home in G-Dale (aka the picture seen above taken in the 1930s) after the first week of work on a film down south but north of San Diego. It feels incredible to be back in what finally feels like my home. Driving into LA on the I-5 at 5am was breathtaking seeing the KA skyline of LA. What a great time to live the dream.

Panda Bear

Get a load of some Panda Bear. Single man side project from Animal Collective. Very basic, but much more of a acid surfer sound. Think Animal Collective x Beach Boys "Pet Sounds". "Person Pitch" is great, but it all is beyond swell. Hope you are doing awesome!

Awesome

After a long day of work, this picture made me laugh really hard. Hopefully I'm not just brain dead and someone looking at this also finds something funny about it. Sport bikes, classic.

Lupus

I am currently staying in a hotel in Southern California. The lights outside are yellow, but not in tint. They are just completely yellow. Coming home from a day on set with a bunch of people is bliss having some down-time alone. So, I go out to the parking lot everynight to listen to music on headphones and decompress after a day on set. What I have found is that it's near impossible to chill out when everyone walking into or away from the hotel look like they have a disease with their kidneys shutting down making their skin appear to be a yellow tint. I just need to head out there with a mirror to look into, showing me that I look like everyone else and all is just fine and dandy and lupus free.

Pool Sharking

I am currently working on a feature film that is funded by a church. I am sure that it wil be rated PG. After working our day today in the church, one of the guys from the camera department (the first assistant, to be exact) ran a girl in a game of pool.
The table, rickety. The girl, no older than 12 years old.
When I say that he ran her, I mean it. It was sad to see, as he refused to pull back and take it easy on her. When I got to the table, he was working on the eight ball; with six of her balls still on the table. After sinking his winning shot, he says "alright, rack em' up."
NO JOKE.
This dude just got done with a 13 hour day and was schooling a poor little Christian girl in a game of pool. She tries to rack the balls, and he steps in (because she didn't know how to) to rack them for her. This time, he lets her try and break. She breaks weak, and he jokingly says that she needs to "maybe learn a little english" before he runs the table down yet another time. I laughed saying "this is definitely bloggable" aloud. He didn't know anything about the 'rice and cholo' blog obviously and joked back.
Well, here I am finishing the blog and it was/is definately for real.
Lesson learned : 'If you are playing a kid in any game, take it easy on them. Especially if it is a parlor game, for kids don't generally have enough time spent in parlors to hone their skills; little own learn english.'

Lazer Tag

I haven't played since i was about as old as these kids. It always smelled like rotting flesh and body odor in there but I always had a great time. You could cheat and agg on the douchebag in there who was actually taking the game really seriously. I'm sure he drove himself there on his BMX and listened to a tape walkman of INXS while drinking endless amounts of slushpuppies but who am I to guess and/or judge. All that matters is that everytime I went into a lazer tag place I left with a stoked mentality and maybe a few carpet burns. My suggestion is to get back on the train and play again as the "adults" we all are now. See if we can't find the now grown up douche who still gets angry at cheating. If he isn't there, at least there will be more frozen fruit flavored drinks for all of us.

Cuba Has Its Own Food

???
Since when? Ate at a joint with the Broseph's tonight. The menu: Pretty over priced and bit over-eclectic for my tastes. So, I brush that off and just get a sandwich. The sammy wasn't bad, but I would definitely not write home about it; instead I'll just blog with rant. Cuba Libre: go there only between the hours of 5:30-7:00. Thats their happy hour and its both affordable and cheap. So, try it out...but only when the food is priced at its value. Word.

Feed The Animals

So, Gregg Gillis (aka Girl Talk) has released a "pay if you want to" new album. For those of you who like mash-ups, rap, party music, or just a orgy of sound pick it up. www.illegalart.com is where you can find it, and opt to pay or not. Grab it and then get the past albums if you already haven't. Nightripper (2006) contains some of the most fun mashed up tracks ranging from current radio hits back to Elton John, Smashing Pumpkins, etc. Basically he makes tracks sound better than they already stood. Last words : Do yourself a favor and check him live. The venue turns into a house party, and clothes are ripped off in sweat.
Check it all.

An Evening With Martin Dosh

It was Friday afternoon, I was hanging out with Jordan and said, "Hope you don't mind, but there is a Sunday Surprise planned for the end of the weekend, FYI." Jordan was baffled and set back a little bit. "What in the world man?" he said and that was really it. Friday night was a little bit of drinking and then to the house we went to mellow out and rest. In pre-sleep hang out I 'acted' as if I was drunk and totally let out the surprise. So, with a slight slur (as to not over-act it) I say, "Have you ever seen those pottery painting places, where you paint your own pottery and then they glaze it for you?"
"Yes, I know what your talking about." Jordan answered back. I then said, "Well thats a little hint for you as to what the surprise is."
Two days go by until Sunday afternoon when Jordan asked if I remembered telling him what the surprise was. I said no and he felt comfortable in knowing that he knew what it was and I had no idea about it. So, we get home and the sun goes down. The Lost Boys (my roommates) are also in the know on the surprise that we would be going to see Dosh live that evening. We called it "the comedy club". So off to the "night of comedy we go" and on the road we drove. The whole way, we were lost and had a hard time finding the club Spaceland where Dosh would be playing that evening. The whole time Jordan is questioning why we were lost as we go to the same comedy theater every Sunday night of every week of every month. We say that tonight it was taking place elsewhere and sorry that we are having a hard time getting there. It was totally believed and casual until we pull up to a small venue with a marquee on the wall. "SUNDAY NIGHT:DOSH".
"What? Dosh is playing, Sunday. Tonight is Sunday. Dosh is playing tonight. We should... What? Are we about to see Dosh?!" The Lost Boys all break out in complete laughter as Jordan is bamboozled and confused and irate at the fact that we were indeed about to see Jordan and my favorite musician of all time. For the first time.
Once in the club, which was modeled behind a UFO, we stood through two INCREDIBLE shows before Dosh came on at about 11:45p. The show was the best thing I have ever seen, and I am sure that I shed at least one tear during the performance.
What a night for surprises, what a night for music, and what a night for friends. Overall, I would basically recommend for anyone to go catch Dosh live, or at least pick up a few of his albums. The music will meld the mind with a sense of astonishingly great creativity amongst other things.

Thank you Dosh for a show that will never be forgotten. Thank you for encoring with the only song I told you that I would love to hear. And thank you Jordan, Kyle, and Nick for being there to experience the night together. Friendship expedition, out.

Depression

When people get depressed, sometimes they are vocal about it.  Other times they hold it inside and bottle it up until something horrific happens.  

The other day, my friend told me that he was depressed.  I gave him suggestions to be more positive.  I made compliments that maybe weren't true, but I knew that he would like to hear them anyway.  I told him about my blog and he said he would check it out sometime if he had a chance.  So, here I am now and now our friends know about his big secret and he will read about himself on an important website.  I hope that he will feel good knowing that someone cares enough about him to share his life stories.

Truth Theory

"My theory is that if I write specific truth that some people know is word by word honesty, then they will think that all of these stories are true."

Throw a Kit On That Bitch

"I just bought a ped."

"OH NO!"

"OH YES!"

was the conversation I had with one of my best boys in Chicago.  He snaked a 90s tomos off ebay and will soon be the proud owner of a moped.  Jelousy sets in.  Gas prices feel heavier.  And I just want to go purchase a helmet and drop a lease on a Ruck*.  

"What you planning on doing with that thing?"

"..." I thought he had left his house to charge the streets of Chicago with earbuds in and helmet locked.  Life has a serious new hobby.  But wait...

"Damn.  I just talked to the guy I bought it from.  Redneck.  Epic."

*Honda Ruckus - a 49cc moped with external framing and dual external can lights.

Get a Pair

Things and times get to a point where you just need to grow a pair and figure it out from there.

Stalactites & Mightnots

Pitch and Putt

The Los Feliz Par 3 is the greatest thing in my life right now. For a measly 4 dollars, you are free to run a muck in a green forest of golfing shenanigans (wow, I really hate that word). Check it out sometime, especially if you have never golfed. It takes zero skill to play this course and/or to have a great time spent outside.

Get a Hobby

After eating lunch the other day with a friend, I suggested helping them out finding a used kitchen appliance for I am currently out of work and had no other real plans. "I really have nothing going on today, so I could totally help you out and track down a stove", is what I said, thinking that it would come off as a helpful to take some stress off of the friends mind; I apparently was wrong. While walking away my friend said, "You should really get a hobby. Stamp collecting?" in a less than exciting tone. (All that I could think of doing was to say that I have fifteen hobbies already and I'm in between things right now.)
This is where the rest of my day got weird. I was perplexed at this comment for one, it made me feel like somewhat of a worthless human being. Also, I haven't ever had a lifestyle suggestion after simply asking to do someone a favor.
Yet in the end it might have been a good thing.
So, I went out and got some cans of paint, to start painting again (as a hobby). Also, I located a fully operational organ. For FREE. So, I have a brand new hobby which is making music in my spare time. Thanks a lot friend for your brash commentary on my lonely and overtly boring life. Hopefully something will come out of this, because if not I could be in a world of hurt come July. And I may come bearing gifts of original art.
(this may read as a moody shit fest. but its not.)

Macro Friday

(soundtrack as you please)

Hybrids

This guy, most definitely does not drive a hybrid but clearly plays Guitar Hero. Also, they are a threat to the blind community for they cannot be heard approaching or passing by. Lastly, they may be good for the environment but some of their owners are awful drivers.

Car Horns

I always have one thing that I would love to rid the world of. Before I moved to LA it was mosquitoes, those damned things. Now I am just thinking about how car horns should disappear forever. Or at least make the *HONK* a compliment or something; waiting at a light for someone to go and you push the horn "NICE HAIR!". The world would be a much happier place without horns and/or abusing people.

Panhandling Hotspot

My car was wicked dirty today, so I made the decision to go to the pay and spray off G-Dale Blvd just down from the Cha Cha. I was spraying and washing and mopping and waxing when this homeless man walked into the establishments parking area. Littered with vacuums and car wash tunnels, I quickly realized why I was the only person using any of the gear at this place. it was a hotspot for loose change and people with plenty of spare change in their pockets. "SHIT." i thought to myself as this grizzled man with a cane began searching the vacuum areas, as they were first in his line of walk. even with the infinitely impossible chance that this guy is on a computer reading my blog, i will not go into deats on his name or clothes or specifics. I would soon be on that same line, with his 'Donnie Darko' fluid chest thing ending on me (if you are in the dark on this reference, there is a part in the film where the main character has a thing come out of his chest and guides him around the house, ending in his parents closet getting a gun out of a shoe box. That movie used to be so cool, now its just stupid). If this did anything good for my psyche, it made me wash faster and use less quarters; which in the end would be left over for our antagonist, the bum.
Washing continues, and the man finally gets to me. "Do you have any change?" he asks. I continue washing and acting like I cant hear what he is saying. "Do you.." once again. "Whats up man?" I give him some attention. "Can you spare some change?" I think of the first thing to leak out of my mouth like the water being sprayed onto my ride. "Sorry, but all my change is being sprayed out of this water gun right here." shifting the sprayer as if he was unsure what i was referring to. He then walked away.
The lesson learned here was to not be a dick to the guy, cause whats the point in that? And also that there are a few places I need to keep in mind and conscious of going to because they are "Bum Hotspots". These places include laundry mats, do it yourself car washes, and arcades (but they might just get tokens there. which is cool by me because then they can have a good time playing a game or two).

Subway vs. Starbucks

When driving in Los Angeles it is quickly noticed the amount of Starbucks locations there are. This is maybe due to the fact that it is hip to hate on Starbucks, even though we all drink it. Next, a friend tells me that Subway kills Starbucks by means of locations with a ratio of 2:1. Yes, there are (apparently) twice as many Subways in LA than Starbucks! You be the judge, or just go ahead and research it and get back to me. I'm still waiting for the truth, which brings me (in a roundabout way) to the thought of which place I would rather be at being helped by an employee diagnosed with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD).

First, the pros:
SUBWAY
-every bite will be a great bite.
-the loaf will be cut with great precision, therefore not leaking due to too deep of a cut.
-the sandwich artist will handle your sammy with more care than if you were on the other side of the counter.
-your change will NEVER be wrong.
-there will never be poorly cut or rotten veggies because the artist would never let that slide.
STARBUCKS
-the OCD pros are obvious, so once again let your own mind do the work.

Now, the cons:
SUBWAY
-the amount of time taken to make the sandwich is twice as long.
-you will easily be questioned on what you want, because the SA (sandwich artist) knows better than you do.
-the lines will always be longer due to the first con.
-once you say what you want, the artist is on auto-pilot with a one tracked mind of concentration on making your meal.
STARBUCKS
-once again, the cons are obvious. Its a cup of coffee for christ's sake.


Conclusion:
I would and will be searching one of the thousands of Subway locations for an employee with OCD to make the most delightful and delicious Subway sandwich. It is also very important to be conscious of a worldwide mental illness that many people are afflicted with, so we must be compassionate to anyone who deals with something of this sort of ailment. Love one, love all; and yes, this applies for Starbucks and Subway.

Table Dancing

Do you ever feel like skateboarding with some super sub-par skills? I did.

Faggots

Inside of a large moving truck, the two men work in unison. It is hot, they are sweating and absolutely not getting paid for their labor.
"Alright, this thing is going to be heavy", one says while wrapping his head around moving a refrigerator out of the moving truck and up a narrow awkward set of cement stairs. Combing his hands through his thick black hair greased from the previous night of drinking, he realizes that they are the only two doing the work.
"Right. How about you spin it this way." he suggest to his fellow worker.
"I'm sweating fucking hard dude", the lanky one answers back.
"Yeah, this is rough. Last thing until we are finished though, lets just get it done."
The two are now standing with the solace of the work that would soon be done. A black car rolls down the street toward them full of young punks. One of them hangs his head out of the passenger side window as they near the moving truck.
"FAGGOTS!" he screams from the early 90s sedan, sounding unsure of his own infliction.
The movers look at eachother, sweating in the hot dank smelling box-truck.
"What was that?! What? Who says..? Oh no." the tallish man sits down wrecked and now completely lost of his determination.
"Dude, that was harsh. Who just yells that? He cant be serious?"
The two have now hit a wall. They are not talking, and most definitely are not looking one another in the eyes.
"I don't want to do this anymore. This truck is due back in 3 hours but fuck this" exiting the truck jumping to the blacktop street. The sun now beating more not than it had been in the past few minutes. Never before has a word of bigotry made so much sense as to not say it aloud. Lucky enough, a taco stand could be seen down the block and surely they would be selling Jarritos.
"I'm gonna' go grab a drink real quick. You want one?"
"Yeah, sure." our once confident comrade replies.
"Alright. Give me some money, 'cause whether it be a fruit soda or a can of beer I will not be buying you a drink at this moment."
A long distance stare down begins from the shaded interior of the truck to the bright hot street below. It would not end for long seconds, until a beautiful girl interrupts; she is the owner of this white boxy refrigerator.
"What are you guys doing?" she asks.
The two stop and look to the girl casually, "Oh nothing, just trying to figure out how to get this fridge up your stairs and into that apartment."
"Alright, well I'm going to head back up. Can you guys and just man up and get the thing up there? Then maybe we could go to the beach."
"Yeah. Sure. You're right. We'll just do it up right now." the taller of the two counters back as he jumps back into the hot box of metal to pick up the most impossible kitchen appliance invented to manhandle. They then begin to navigate the fridge up the hairpin turn staircase and up to the front door. Once inside they set it down and plug it in, and immediately crack some lime Jarritos to cheers. The work is done.
"Well, the beach?" the girl asks.
"Sure, I just need to go get my swimsuit. You need yours man?", one asks the other.
"No. I'm fine with my jeans, lets just get out of here." he is clearly keeping on his street clothes.
And to the beach they went, listening to the filthiest rap songs they could think of mixed with the most terrible selections of classic smooth rock the backseat passenger had on his ipod.
Their heads were rocked and lessons were learned. But as the sun disappeared over the ocean, it was clear that their prior friendships were made more solid than they ever had been, and new ones were forming.

New Ferris Wheel

"Yeah, walk away from the ferris wheel, we are looking for you also."
"Okay, what the fuck? they just said to walk towards it."
suddenly in the intensely epic late afternoon sun, the two men are seen walking side by side and quite possibly holding hands.
"HEY!"
nothing. they continue to walk with steps of love.
"HEEEYYY!"
something. they are startled.
the two turn and walk towards us, spacing apart in order to seem legit; the whole time wavering to and fro as if they were magnetically drawn together.
"No one can know about this, okay. No one."
"I know. No one, but it might be too late, just say something about Russel Simmons or something. Break the ice."
now, with the two groups back together they would dig their feet into the six p.m. sand finding warmth below from earlier in the hot afternoon, and having the hardest sober faced trip they will have ever experienced. god forbid that a metal detector man get on the loose..

Meds

so if you come to the pharmacy and the exterior statue is looking like either a ballerina or a clown, we have given you the wrong prescription. The statue should always appear to be a mix of the two, not one or the other.

Shrek Bans

who in the hells glasses are these?! Shreks?

Wizards

with people still in line for hours, the U-Haul pulls up and opens the back flooding the street and club doorline with men in wizard costumes. Thats a true party.

Firsties

Hey there fans. This is my first blog site, and first blog. Story about the name; there is a resturaunt in hollywood that serves rice and cholos (this is a lie) and I was thinking that maybe its not quite cool to eat people or call them names, but the cholo is a mexican gangster so at the very least the streets are more safe. Leaching is preaching in this case.

"WHOA! That was out of left field!" is rooted in the chicago cubs second stadium they played at up until 1915 when a college was built where the field used to sit. The psycology dept. put their looney bin where left field used to be. So, that saying is politically incorrect right out of the gate and anyone who says "Thats out of right field." doesnt know what they are talking about and is quite possibly a girl.

Havent even read many blogs, so this will be natural and unreal both at the same time. So here we go, buckle up..

Being an artist is about as real as being a magician, except for all magicians impress people and only some artists turn heads, if any.

(i add these one liners for style points, and to help you get through the nonsense by way of nonsense. make sense?)

Alright. Today marks friday the 30th of may. I am unemployed as of today, for the film i was working on wrapped. "Start lookin'!", they would all say. "Good Luck with the next job!" in the most insincere tone as possible. My new friends quickly became bitter and short with me, my help is no longer needed. So, with that great support system, I just blog. I blog around the block and around town. Just to do it and feel more healthy. Blog once a day and im sure it will provide better life right?! RIGHT. So, now walking backwards.

Yesterday was a day that was going great, I was driving around for a production company as their driver. A measely job with little to no glamor other than scoring free shit at rental houses and film processing centers. With that said, I would just drive. I would drive and crank tunage and thats about it, all with the windows down. Every day, tank after tank would get me around this small junket of a city we know as Los Angeles. So thank god the job wasnt stressful at all, for the interstate driving made up for the lack of responsibility and excitement. When driving here i immediately conjured up these points:

1. LA drivers (maybe CA drivers in general) are fucking morons and careless to the point of driving as if they are all drunk.
2. Speed limits are posted. Speed limits are never followed.
3. It is not unnatural to be on 3 or more interstates (4-widers) in one route.
4. Every car (maybe 92%) has only one person in it, car pooling is drowned here.

So, mix that all up and here is what we now have. Thousands upon thousands of belligerent assholes driving way too fast on every single road you are on battleling for their own spot on the road since they arent sharing their car with anyone else. That is such a funny shit scenario for daily life here in this city, and people wonder why its stressful to be here? Ah, whatevs, keep your eyes ahead since life is just so damn incredible and great. Right?!

Walking by Abercrombie & Fitch is very similar to the sound of a highschool house party that is about to get busted.

As this is my first blog, I am unsure of lengths. But if i were the person reading this, i would be sick and tired at this point and I'd prolly shut off my computer for the day. Hope ya'll enjoyed and come back around again soon.

{Peace}

image is a Kirk Irwin shot, a great photographer and can be viewed at www.kirkirwin.blogspot.com