What's it all about?
I mean, really... I'm talkin' big picture, technicolor, wide-screen enlightenment.
Have you ever had a moment when your whole identity slaps you in the face and you stand there amidst the refridgerators and DVD players crying because you don't know who you are anymore? When you wake up in a stinky motel room in the middle of the desert with a dead rabbit in your bed and two dwarves tied up in bondage gear, trembling in the corner; you know you are an adult.
It's not so easy to forget the past but it's a snap to lose perspective in the present. Speaking of presents, I gotta go do some shopping. Maybe I will get you something useless, like an ego.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Sunday, November 27, 2005
Nephew
My nephew Parker was born today at 9:50pm. I had just left Arizona this morning, so I missed his entrance. He is really cute, not just for a newborn. Genuinely adorable. Hearing him cry brought a tear to my eyes. Oh, youth! How I envy you.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Raisin Arizona
I'm in Arizona for Thanksgiving and (hopefully) the birth of my nephew, Parker. My sister isn't due until next week but we are hoping that he will come in time for the holiday. Earlier, she was practically begging for Castor Oil, though Mom says it's not a good idea. I think it's better to wait and let nature take it's course.
My brother and I had a great "What's it all about?" conversation tonight. He lost the use of his legs in a car accident in 1997, he was twenty four. We snuck out after my parents went to bed, I needed a cigarette real bad. Out on the porch, I asked what he wanted for Christmas this year. "A reason to live," was his reply.
"A raisin?" I asked, relating all too well to what I had actually heard him say. He explained that he had recently discovered that money was an illusion and couldn't seem to find meaning in anything. He was always an all or nothing kind of guy and because of that I formulated this little bit of wisdom:
Meaning is in everything and everything is meaningless.
That meaning, of course, it's all in how you look at it. I insisted that the meaning of life was tacos. He protested that tacos were not a reason to get up in the morning. I needed something more breakfast-y. What about "the anticipation of tacos"? He said that when he looks into his heart, there is nothing there. Dreams have all been fulfilled (which I don't believe) and it's all just empty. He asked about cosmic fuck ups and do I think that it's possible for the universe to make mistakes. "No," I replied. "We get what we ask for and someone, somewhere must have prayed for a sequel to Deuce Bigalow, even if it was only Rob Schneider. The universe does not make mistakes, we do."
I will get him some raisins for Christmas, but the reasons...he will have to find those on his own.
My brother and I had a great "What's it all about?" conversation tonight. He lost the use of his legs in a car accident in 1997, he was twenty four. We snuck out after my parents went to bed, I needed a cigarette real bad. Out on the porch, I asked what he wanted for Christmas this year. "A reason to live," was his reply.
"A raisin?" I asked, relating all too well to what I had actually heard him say. He explained that he had recently discovered that money was an illusion and couldn't seem to find meaning in anything. He was always an all or nothing kind of guy and because of that I formulated this little bit of wisdom:
Meaning is in everything and everything is meaningless.
That meaning, of course, it's all in how you look at it. I insisted that the meaning of life was tacos. He protested that tacos were not a reason to get up in the morning. I needed something more breakfast-y. What about "the anticipation of tacos"? He said that when he looks into his heart, there is nothing there. Dreams have all been fulfilled (which I don't believe) and it's all just empty. He asked about cosmic fuck ups and do I think that it's possible for the universe to make mistakes. "No," I replied. "We get what we ask for and someone, somewhere must have prayed for a sequel to Deuce Bigalow, even if it was only Rob Schneider. The universe does not make mistakes, we do."
I will get him some raisins for Christmas, but the reasons...he will have to find those on his own.
Saturday, November 19, 2005
Controversy on a Dancefloor
In case you missed it, there was a big stink on Self Portrait as over the new Madonna album. Funny stuff, no really...
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Winter Wayne
Though it has not been "cold" here in Los Angeles, I am feeling the effects of the season. Something is definitely up...or down, rather, as I have been taken over by what I can only describe as "Winter Wayne."
WW is hungry. He's been in hibernation for a long time and now that he is awake, I fear my waistline may be in trouble. Ravenous is not a comfortable feeling. I am craving junk food and have let my diet slip quite a bit lately. Something about the holidays does that to me. I intentionally skipped Halloween because it marks the "beginning" of the season, with candy. F*ck sugar, I don't need it. But the Jelly Bellies just keep popping into my mouth. I had jokingly dubbed my diet WWBE, meaning: What Would Bowie Eat? And that seems fitting, though lately it's been WWCE, as in: What Wouldn't Courtney Eat? and that, frankly, scares me.
WWBE is a good diet, or "lifestyle" as some would say, because a diet is only temporary. The rules are simple: just ask yourself "Would Bowie eat this?" Personally, I can't imagine Bowie eating much of anything, so this has kept me slim and trim. But lately, when I pass the Taco Bell, I think, "What the hell!" I actually pulled into the drive through the other night and was divinely blocked by a large truck, facing backwards. I took this as a sign and immediately drove away. I came home and had some soup.
But Winter Wayne is more than just appetite. It's the way my self help books don't hold the same allure as my magazines, or the new Dennis Cooper novel, which makes me sick but I keep reading anyway. It's as if my mind and body have betrayed me on some cosmic level. Sure, I've been under a lot of stress lately and this latest war was no fun at all. I hope that's all it is. I am almost finished with this job and I expect to bounce back. But in the meantime, my winter skin has slipped in and taken over. Is that the smell of despondency? Maybe just a little.
No, it doesn't help that the clutter is piling up and I've been too tired to clean. I have resolved to be "neater" so many times, I am starting to feel like Kevin Costner at a Madonna concert. My youngest sister is expecting the first baby in our family since she was born 22 years ago. So, I am planning a little trip home, to see the baby and eat some turkey with the folks. As an adult, I have grown weary of the rituals of Christmas. The "what-do-you-want-this-year" calls have already started and I am at a loss. I have always been the kind of guy who just buys whatever he wants and leaves nothing for "gifting." Though I have considered myself easy to buy for (ie: easy to please), it's just not true. It is constant work, keeping the people in your life abreast of your latest infatuations. I have received Powerpuff Girls merchandise, long after the novelty had worn off.
So what I have to do is reinvent myself for the season. The old Winter Wayne is just not gonna cut it this year. I like fitting into the same size jeans I wore in high school, all those winters ago. I refuse to be depressed. I refuse to accept my hunger. All I need is more sleep and a better attitude. That's not too much to ask, right?
WW is hungry. He's been in hibernation for a long time and now that he is awake, I fear my waistline may be in trouble. Ravenous is not a comfortable feeling. I am craving junk food and have let my diet slip quite a bit lately. Something about the holidays does that to me. I intentionally skipped Halloween because it marks the "beginning" of the season, with candy. F*ck sugar, I don't need it. But the Jelly Bellies just keep popping into my mouth. I had jokingly dubbed my diet WWBE, meaning: What Would Bowie Eat? And that seems fitting, though lately it's been WWCE, as in: What Wouldn't Courtney Eat? and that, frankly, scares me.
WWBE is a good diet, or "lifestyle" as some would say, because a diet is only temporary. The rules are simple: just ask yourself "Would Bowie eat this?" Personally, I can't imagine Bowie eating much of anything, so this has kept me slim and trim. But lately, when I pass the Taco Bell, I think, "What the hell!" I actually pulled into the drive through the other night and was divinely blocked by a large truck, facing backwards. I took this as a sign and immediately drove away. I came home and had some soup.
But Winter Wayne is more than just appetite. It's the way my self help books don't hold the same allure as my magazines, or the new Dennis Cooper novel, which makes me sick but I keep reading anyway. It's as if my mind and body have betrayed me on some cosmic level. Sure, I've been under a lot of stress lately and this latest war was no fun at all. I hope that's all it is. I am almost finished with this job and I expect to bounce back. But in the meantime, my winter skin has slipped in and taken over. Is that the smell of despondency? Maybe just a little.
No, it doesn't help that the clutter is piling up and I've been too tired to clean. I have resolved to be "neater" so many times, I am starting to feel like Kevin Costner at a Madonna concert. My youngest sister is expecting the first baby in our family since she was born 22 years ago. So, I am planning a little trip home, to see the baby and eat some turkey with the folks. As an adult, I have grown weary of the rituals of Christmas. The "what-do-you-want-this-year" calls have already started and I am at a loss. I have always been the kind of guy who just buys whatever he wants and leaves nothing for "gifting." Though I have considered myself easy to buy for (ie: easy to please), it's just not true. It is constant work, keeping the people in your life abreast of your latest infatuations. I have received Powerpuff Girls merchandise, long after the novelty had worn off.
So what I have to do is reinvent myself for the season. The old Winter Wayne is just not gonna cut it this year. I like fitting into the same size jeans I wore in high school, all those winters ago. I refuse to be depressed. I refuse to accept my hunger. All I need is more sleep and a better attitude. That's not too much to ask, right?
Sunday, November 13, 2005
Trust Overfull & the Art of War
The battle is over, but have I won the war? We shall see, I suppose. This particular round was interesting to say the least. I engaged the enemy on foreign soil and was pushed to my limits. In times of war, it is useful to have a mantra. This last week, my mantra was: "It is what it is," because sometimes a little existential acceptance is all you need. Call it "rolling with the punches," I call it survival.
Tuesday
I find myself in a parking lot in downtown Los Angeles at 3am. This is the beginning. I am disoriented and scared, but the battle has begun and the troops are engaged. I set up my command center and begin strategic maneuvers. It doesn't help that my superior officer has chosen to sit this one out. I am alone and must make the best of it. Major Toad begins what can be described as a bit of mutiny, but I stand my ground. By noon, the evacuation is complete and we move the entire unit to higher ground.
On the way, I am accompanied by two foot soldiers. One espouses the dangers of mistakenly thinking about Winona Ryders vagina. I don't and we arrive on a snow covered hilltop that evening. I refuse my quarters, as someone has already made use of the latrine. I am in bed by 11pm. Day one is over.
Wednesday
The snow has presented a problem for some of the vehicles and Toad has positioned my command center far from the front lines. My driver cannot get the generator started and I am left without power. Limited communication makes it difficult to assess the battle and my driver (a former underwear model, and merman from Madonna's "Cherish" video) apologizes profusely for the faulty equiptment. "It is what it is," I tell him and he tries to convince me to help make a documentary about people who are eaten by alligators. I politely refuse.
There is beauty all around and depsite the cold, spirits are not yet broken. I arrange to travel to the next position with only one soldier. Don't ask, don't tell. I capture clouds along the way.
Thursday
We start the day in the rain. By now, the troops are tired and tensions are high. Midday we move to the lakeside and try to work out the plan. It is a long battle and many are wounded. I try to inspire hope. The war is almost over. We shall prevail. I remind everyone that we are on the same side. This does little to ease the pressure.
Friday
Early morning miscommunication. The frontline is lost, literally, and cannot find the battefield. Maps are useless and strong leadership is called for. I remain calm throughout. We move once again, to the final batteground, closer to home and the end.
At this point, I am ready for a pint. After returning to the City of Angels, I remedy this longing with some of the soldiers and finally make my way home. It was an ugly war. My skin is tired.
Next time, I hope to make love.
Tuesday
I find myself in a parking lot in downtown Los Angeles at 3am. This is the beginning. I am disoriented and scared, but the battle has begun and the troops are engaged. I set up my command center and begin strategic maneuvers. It doesn't help that my superior officer has chosen to sit this one out. I am alone and must make the best of it. Major Toad begins what can be described as a bit of mutiny, but I stand my ground. By noon, the evacuation is complete and we move the entire unit to higher ground.
On the way, I am accompanied by two foot soldiers. One espouses the dangers of mistakenly thinking about Winona Ryders vagina. I don't and we arrive on a snow covered hilltop that evening. I refuse my quarters, as someone has already made use of the latrine. I am in bed by 11pm. Day one is over.
Wednesday
The snow has presented a problem for some of the vehicles and Toad has positioned my command center far from the front lines. My driver cannot get the generator started and I am left without power. Limited communication makes it difficult to assess the battle and my driver (a former underwear model, and merman from Madonna's "Cherish" video) apologizes profusely for the faulty equiptment. "It is what it is," I tell him and he tries to convince me to help make a documentary about people who are eaten by alligators. I politely refuse.
There is beauty all around and depsite the cold, spirits are not yet broken. I arrange to travel to the next position with only one soldier. Don't ask, don't tell. I capture clouds along the way.
Thursday
We start the day in the rain. By now, the troops are tired and tensions are high. Midday we move to the lakeside and try to work out the plan. It is a long battle and many are wounded. I try to inspire hope. The war is almost over. We shall prevail. I remind everyone that we are on the same side. This does little to ease the pressure.
Friday
Early morning miscommunication. The frontline is lost, literally, and cannot find the battefield. Maps are useless and strong leadership is called for. I remain calm throughout. We move once again, to the final batteground, closer to home and the end.
At this point, I am ready for a pint. After returning to the City of Angels, I remedy this longing with some of the soldiers and finally make my way home. It was an ugly war. My skin is tired.
Next time, I hope to make love.
Sunday, November 06, 2005
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
Might as well
I do apologize for the utter lameness of the energy here lately as I am currently in negotiations for my soul with the Devil himself. Details to come.
For mental stimulation, I suggest you go here.
For mental stimulation, I suggest you go here.
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
---Dorothy Parker
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