A Few Tidbits From the Weekend.

So the holidays have come and gone and, as tends to happen with my world, it's been an interesting couple of days. I did the regular thanksgiving deal with the family and eating too much turkey, and meeting up with my buddy Pete and his crew for post-dinner drinks and fun.

Friday, I helped a friend shell two pounds worth of pecans for a pie competition which he was going to wage with a baking rival the following day. Always glad to help, I was a little let down that I didn't get a chance to taste the fruit of my labors. Still it was something I never thought I'd be doing.

Speaking of things I never thought I'd be doing, I can label one thing I did on Saturday night under that header as well: I rode a mechanical bull. I won't go into the specific details of exactly how all this happened, but suffice it to say that I got snookered into that "If I go, you have to go" mentality, and wound up on the back of a mechanical bull. I'd like to think I did okay as far as all that goes. Sure, it scrambled my eggs ever so slightly, but all in all, I wasn't terribly let down by the whole experience, and would even be willing to do it again sometime given the opportunity.

Over the weekend I also exposed some friends to various awesome bands and music, as well as re-discovering some gems that I'd overlooked for a while. For those of you who have it: check out Rilo Kiley's early stuff -- as much as I love "Under the Black Light" I think that "The Execution of All Things" might actually be their best work. Also, I have rekindled the flame I have for Scandinavian singers, mainly Sondre Lerche and Jens Lekman. I don't know exactly how they do what they do, but man do they do it well. I hope that someday I can tap into my inner Swede and make some music like that.

Speaking of making music like that, I set up my new four track, and I'm convinced that no matter how long I may own it, I will never possibly be able to use it up to its peak abilities. Why, you ask? Oh, it might have something to do with the fact that the instruction manual is eighty five freakin' page long. Or the fact that it comes with a separate sub-instruction manual dedicated strictly to the various ways to transfer recordings from the four track to whatever form of media I desire. Granted, if I can harness its power, I will be able to create music to my heart's desire with all sorts of cool add-ons and features, but at this rate, I'll be thirty by the time I really understand how to get this baby humming.

Well, that's all for me tonight. I guess this was a tad more personalized than I usually get with my postings but hey, I haven't really been out and about all that much this weekend in comparison to everyone else I know who had amazing tales of all the exciting travels and activities that that the holiday weekend entails. Also, I am purposefully omitting a picture since I don't have in my possession a picture of myself riding the bull.

Thankful.

So throughout the course of the evening tonight, I have been trying to come up with some sort of "all the things I'm thankful for" special blog posting. At the moment, I am beginning to think that I might not be able to really get everything together. Then I kicked around the idea of going bitter and spiteful and focusing on the things I'm not thankful for. But if I were to do that, I might well be considered a dick; and the people who thought that would not be wrong.

So I'll be brief, I'll be generally un-sentimental, and I'll do everything I can not to be a dick.

More than anything I am thankful that I have a job. Let's not beat around the bush, here: times were tight, I'd dipped about as far into my savings as I possibly could, and I was scarcely scraping by with the work I had. Better yet, I still have a job at the moment, despite the economic climate at the moment. I guess you'll have to check back with me after Black Friday to see just how comfortable and secure that employment remains, but in the meantime I have a good job and even better co-workers.

I'm thankful for all my friends. I like to believe that I express my thankfulness to them on a regular basis, but this is a great excuse to say it again. As happy as I am to have the great friends who have stuck around with me through all these years, I am equally thankful for an additional batch of newfound friends. Saturday nights at Gestalt may never be the same.

I'm thankful for my health -- barring the sore throat I've had for the last few days, I've been fit as a fiddle. I chalk it up to my regimen of alcohol, small amounts of sleep, and borderline-obsessive hand washing.

I am also thankful for all of you. Granted, most of you were covered in the friend section, but those of you who are just casual readers, you guys rock. If I wasn't convinced that there were some of you out there enjoying what I write and all that jazz, I probably wouldn't do this.

I will balance all this out by saying that there are a number of things I look forward to changing in the next year or so, which means it isn't all sunshine and pixie dust, but hey, I've got the rest of the year to gripe and groan. So for today, I eagerly await eating to the point of discomfort then sleeping like the dead.

Dinosaur Comics.

From Qwantz this morning. I felt that due to the literary references, this one had to be shared:



In case you're unfamiliar with Dinosaur Comics, the mouseover text is every bit as important as what is on the page.

Do you tweet?

Probably two months ago or so, I started a Twitter account. To tell you the truth, at the get-go, I didn't even have a whole lot of reason as to why. I just figured as someone employed as a blogger, I should have as much knowledge as possible of all the various social networking sites. Plus, it was a generally easy thing to keep up while at work.

However, I have noticed that it has suddenly blown up in the past few weeks. All of a sudden, networks are growing, people are mobile tweeting all over the place (there are at least three separate twitter apps for the iPhone that I know of), and the whole thing is starting to get absurd. So, while I applaud the powers that be at Twitter for resisting a sale to Facebook, I am still curious as to see what will be happening in the coming weeks and months over there. Moreover, with mass layoffs all over the tech industry, how much longer can this continue. I mean, we see enough of FailWhale as it is, and what will happen as you have a mix of celebs who are getting tweeted at all the time, as well as those internet troll types who feel the need to obsessively tweet about the fact that they woke up, took a shower, and turned on their computer (all from their iphone before they have logged on to the website)? Will this microblogging craze take over, gradually pushing myspace into obscurity now that it is almost officially the slowest site on the internet? Plus, will people on Twitter realize that there are many more fun and interesting ways to take advantage of your account than to simply give status updates?

If you don't have an account, check it out - I will admit that it is pretty addictive. If you have one already, I hope we're following each other. Otherwise I'd just be sad.

Generational difference, or OCD?

Allow me to relate a story to you: so this year, thanks to the wondrous generosity of my company, I am pretty light on Christmas wishes. So I decided to be blunt as always with my parents, who seldom have the slightest clue as to what they should get me. So I decided to shoot it straight -- I just want a new desk chair. At the moment, my butt's receptacle is old and worn out. It was once a comfortable, well-crafted chair I'm sure, but it has got to be at least forty years old at this point. The leather has worn off the two corners at the front. One wheel falls of any time there isn't direct pressure on it, the leather on the seat is cracked and ripped, and a spring comes up through the hole, as the three separate snags on my pajama pants will attest to. Plus, it squeaks and squeals like an old jalopy any time I turn, recline, or even shift my weight.

So needless to say, while it had a long and fruitful career, it's time to retire this bad boy. I have my eyes on one of those sweet mesh-back dealies with the lumbar support and all that jazz. This is exactly what I told my folks. What precipitated from this description was a visit from my dad later that evening in which he tried to sell me on the idea of him fixing the wheels, having the chair reupholstered, and possibly replacing the springs.

So, this got me thinking: is this a generational difference? Are the prior generations more inclined to keep things in their possession and fix them up? Are we, as the new generation a product of our disposable culture? Are we more inclined to throw things out in favor of a new replacement, while prior generations had to get more use out of their stuff? Or is it just that my dad has a general inability to throw much of anything out? Not exactly a critique of my old man, but this is an honest-to-goodness question that has been plaguing the back of my mind for the last few months now.

Like no life you've ever lived.

Let me preface this by saying I'm not really an amazing world traveler. I enjoy traveling, I love taking in other countries, but I don't necessarily have the bank account or the freedom to travel like I wish. I know I could, but it's just not one of my top priorities.

So I'm sitting here on my couch watching a DVD of Henry Rollins do spoken word. This is one of my great joys in life - the man can talk like no other, he' intelligent as all hell, and his stories are fucking hilarious. The first spoken word album of his, he critiques the TV show "Friends" and rightfully so. But he uses the title of this posting as a line to describe the lives the characters lead. And it's true. While my friends and I may frequent coffee shops on the regular, we have next to nothing in common with those lovable TV scamps.

But I digress.

Anyhow, the one thing that strikes me about Rollins is that while he has amazing insights into damn near everything, and can probably make the dictionary an interesting read if he read it aloud and commented upon it, I still think that he is most amazing because his day-to-day life leads him to absurd situations. For a living, he travels the globe. He is constantly surrounded by interesting people, most of them celebrities. He plays shows to hundreds of thousands of people, and even does spoken word performances to hundreds of people at a time. Imagine that: having hundreds of people come from far and wide just to sit around and listen to you talk. Damn near every night. And it's totally worth it. But still, Henry has a life like no life I have ever lived, no life my friends have ever lived. I have heard him tell stories of playing on fjords in Finland, open-air stadiums in Brazil, playing at a Russian mob-owned casino, and all sorts of exotic locales. He tells stories about a rivalry with Iggy Pop, or his occasional get togethers with Ozzy Osbourne. I don't know that much of anyone who spends eight hours a day in a cubicle or working retail can tell stories like that. Intense like him? Sure. Stories like him? No. It's watching someone like Rollins that I find fascinating.

So what does someone like me do? I have the occasional mishap on MUNI (kind of like the puddle of Fruit Punch on the seat of the train today that allllllmost blended in enough with the seat for someone to sit in... but it didn't happen) or the interesting observations of assorted characters. Still, I don't have much to draw from. I guess that's why no one is paying me to hang out and tell stories of my day-to-day life. At least not yet they don't.

Long story short: check out Henry Rollins' spoken word. It's awesome. It's inspiring to everyday mooks like myself.

On water skis, hopping over Jaws.

It almost pains me to say this... almost.

Family Guy; I fear you have jumped the shark.

I was more than willing to ride things out with some of last season's episodes, ADD though they may have been. I was willing to look the other way when you tried a few zany contrivances. I chalked them up to ironic usage. I was even willing to forgive the increased instances of your quirky little pop culture references.

But this season, it has all changed. In case you have forgotten, Family Guy, there is this little thing called "plot" and from all of my experiences in studying literature and the like, I hear that it is somewhat important to a narrative. Alas, you have neglected that goofy convention we call plot in the favor of cramming in as many cut-to-scenes as possible in a half hour television program. If I have to hear Peter say "That reminds me of the time..." again, I just might lose it. You see, those little dalliances into absurdist pop culture and eighties nostalgia can only take an effort so far. When there are fifteen minutes devoted to that, and seven or eight minutes of plot, max, there can't be much of a story going on.

Please, Family Guy, for the good of your show, and for all those fans who fought and petitioned so fervently to bring you back from the depths of obscurity, go back to writing stories and throwing a few cut scenes here and there, instead of writing a miniature story to tie together your cut scenes. Take a lesson from the Simpsons (again) and take stock of where you went wrong and address the problem instead of plowing blindly headfirst into the rubbish bin.

If and when you do right the ship, I'll be there waiting for you. Until then, strap on your water skis and look out for hostile creatures under the surface waiting to snap. Which reminds me of the time that I got kicked out of Sea World...

A Long Time Ago, in the Roaring '20s Far Far Away

This is amazing. It blends my love of old-timey silent movies and their silly scores with my love for, well, Star Wars. Enjoy.

Rant: Engage.

DISCLAIMER: I am more than a little bitter tonight, and have chosen today's blog as a means of blowing off some steam. If I offend anyone personally, consider yourself warned before continuing. If you choose to read the whole entry, I applaud you and would love for this to turn into a post in which everyone feels free to bash anything that currently gripes them. That is all.


Do you know what gets on my nerves? Hippies. Sorry, Ms. Gatchell, if you're reading this, but you are far cooler than the reaaal dumbass white rasta hippies who sit around and smoke up all day while trying to really "connect with the earth spirit" and find themselves. I mean, come on, no one wants to be this guy. Call me what you want, but when I see groups of hippies hanging around together building a collective stink of a cumulative lack of showering since the Clinton administration, I have trouble keeping it inside.


Generally related, PETA. Sorry, animal crusaders. I respect your plight, I fully support all the nudity you flash around all over the place, hell, I even appreciate some random anti-fur terrorism from time to time. But get creative. Put yourself in your victim's shoes. So what if you throw flour or red paint on them? How would you like it if they answered back by throwing dead minks at you?



Next on my list: rice rockets. See, I live in a part of town that is predominantly Asian. It's cool. I always joke that I was raised Asian because so many of my classmates were. I enjoy diversity and am well aware that there is worlds more than geography that separates Chinese and Japanese. The one main down side of this part of town is that I am constantly having to deal with (generally speaking) Asian males between the ages of sixteen and twenty four who think that they might win a part in the next installment of "The Fast and the Furious". I realize I'm stereotyping, and I am not saying that all Asian males of that age range have them, I'm just saying that the preponderance of drivers who own those cars tend to fit into that classification. Still, it is frustrating when I am trying to fall asleep at the moderate hour of one in the morning, that I have to hear those muffler-less pieces of crap barrel-assing down my driveway and bottoming out on the speed bump that is almost directly outside of my bedroom window.

Finally, one last target for tonight, and that's hipster boys who are far too hipster for their own good. I mean, I have friends who consider me a hipster (though they're a little misguided). My bar tends to be a hipster bar, even. But if you look like you don't have enough body mass to support the giant mass of keys hanging from your caribiner, you have a problem. Here's an idea: drink a beer, give up heroin, trade in your fixie, buy some pants that fit, get a job, and contribute to society for a change. You can't all be baristas the rest of your life. And no, that band was no better when you saw them in someone's garage rather than at a local venue. And no, you're not a better person for having seen them "before they sold out."

Anyone remember.....

... that thing called "the election"? It's been a whopping nine days, so America has moved on to such important topics as:

- What's wrong with your NFL football team at the midway point of the season

- Jennifer Aniston talking shit about Angelina Jolie on the cover of Vogue.

- That 73 year old dude playing Junior College basketball.

- Some bitch who may or may not have committed suicide near Paula Abdoul's house who was publicly ridiculed on American Idol.

- Teen celebrities who may or may not be virgins.

- What's going to happen during sweeps week.

- And, my favorite, the weather.




Thank heavens we got all that boring "fate of the free world stuff" out of the way, and we can move on to the important issues, like what kind of puppies the Obama kids will be getting.

Help.... it ain't just for Beatles any more.

Oh, it was so good to be back at the coffee shop tonight. I made a fruitless effort on Thursday to return, but much to my dismay, when I arrived there not only was there nowhere to sit, there was some hippie lady singing hippie fuckin' music about how great it is to be respected and empowered or some shit like that. I didn't stick around long enough to really pay attention.

Luckily, tonight was a different story. I walk in, order my coffee, find a seat on the couch, and go about my business. Eventually a female roughly my age comes and sits next to me. I can't help but notice that she is on YouTube. And she is watching some of the craziest videos I've seen.

Now before I continue, I want to make two things absolutely clear:

1) I have nothing in particular against self help stuff. It has helped many people, and I have even read a few, though I can't say the particularly enriched my life. I was just in that "read everything" mode.

2) I don't go to the coffee shop to find people to mock, nor do I make a habit of screen-peeking. I simply stumble across people who happen to do "interesting" things on their computer... two feet from my face.

Now, having said that, I couldn't help but see this. This chick was watching weird videos about stuff like (I swear, I couldn't make these up if I tried) "Universe Power," "Astonishing Power of Emotions," and "Reading Your Feelings." This was fascinating enough in and of itself. Then, all of a sudden, she gets into the relationship ones, and these ones are the ones that my bitter, cynical, black hearted self just rip to shreds. "Tips on How To Make Him Like You" or "Seven Things Women Do Wrong During Lovemaking That Turn Men Off" Or a personal favorite "Ten Things All Cheating Men Say." I understand the need for these videos, but most were just glorified PowerPoint presentations, but do you really think you're going to find someone out there if you go out in public to watch videos like "Three Reasons Why Men Will Not Call" you might not necessarily have the best approach. I'm not saying I know much of anything about picking up folks randomly or anything like that, and my track record will certainly speak to that effect, but still, it just seems a little sad to me. Plus, while I realize men are patently stupid, universal cure-alls like that really just cloud women's heads with thoughts and signals that aren't really applicable. I could go on and on about the whole "reading into things" and rampant speculation that goes on with the fairer sex, but I am growing a tad weary and I'll just end up sounding spiteful.

The Bar: A Retrospective

At lunch today, I sat relatively idly by and listened to a handful of co-workers talk about their perceptions of going out to the bar. To be very short, they were all of the opinion that going to the bar was a waste of time, and they'd all either prefer to stay in or spend time with friends at places not full of alcohol and noise. While I am a proponent of spending quality time with friends outside of taverns, I am also a huge proponent of spending quality time with my friend, the tavern. Granted, my perceptions of going out to the bar have altered with time, but I still get fired up at the prospect of spending a night at the bar.

So how did this come to be? Simple. There is one way to make bar-going much less about the "getting dolled up and going somewhere for overpriced drinks," and that is finding a bar or two that you like and making it (or them) your bar. Once you have found your bar (or bars) you have a safe haven to go for nights out. You learn the flow of the crowd, you learn the music setup, you make friends with the bartenders and the regulars, and before you know it you're like me: I can walk into either of my bars and there will be a drink waiting for me by the time I make it from the door to the bar itself. That and when the bartender comps you drinks are the two signs when the bar has made you one of its own. It helps if you're consistent, too, so the bartender knows who you are and what you drink at first. I have known a handful of bartenders who know people strictly by drink, but eventually learn their name, especially if they order something out of the ordinary.

The other issue of major importance of bar going is to be realistic: if you go to the bar consistently with the hopes of finding someone you'll care about and enter into a meaningful relationship, you might be mildly deluded. There's always a chance of something good happening, but that chance becomes slim to none if you are actively seeking it. Hook ups? Sure. Dating? Generally not. If you're just out to have fun, to enjoy the company of interesting individuals, to maybe enter into some good natured alcohol-fueled hijinx, you will almost always find that at a bar.

So, good barflies like myself, I salute you. Thank you for making my nights out, fewer though they may be these days, a lot more fun and interesting than my nights in or my nights at the coffee shop. I am already looking forward to Saturday night and my usual regimen of craziness.

Television is the Devil.

For those of you that know me, you remember that I have spent the last ten years or so with an ancient TV in my abode. It was a big ol' console TV with a remote that was probably about three cubic feet in size.

During the grand overhaul of my little hermitage, I inherited the TV that my folks were ditching in favor of their new flat screen. I also inherited cable TV for the first time in my life. So for the last couple of months, I find myself staring at the idiot box a lot more than I used to. What's worse, I think I'm starting to feel the ill effects of watching TV. I feel mentally sluggish. I have been neglecting my thesis more than I should. God help me if I ever get real cable -- I am feeling my brain softening, and I only have like twenty channels.

I think the other issue is a lack of quality time being spent at the coffee shop. It's one of those byproducts of work life: I come home tired, try to get to bed at a slightly earlier hour, and don't always have the gumption to make the drive out there. Hell, I have taken into packing it in and circling the wagons early, rather than taking advantage of a little caffeine buzz later in the evening.

I think all I really have to do is write a bunch of post-its or tattoo the back of my hand with the words "Are you sure you want to do that?" It's time to batten down the hatches and re-gain some of that momentum I had like a month ago or so. Television be damned! Who's with me?

I'm not going to say it.

It's the eve of the election, and I know as well as you do that we are currently witnessing history in the making. I look forward to the prospect of standing in line to cast my vote instead of the usual routine of walking to my local polling place and seeing a room empty except for the staffers and maybe a neighbor or two.

But enough about that. I want to fill your heads with random questions having nothing to do with our modern political climate.

- Why do we just call the letter Z "zee" why can't we call it "zed" like the British?

- When will grunge come back into vogue? I don't know that flannel will make a revival, but can the music at least gain a little footing again?

- Does anyone else find it hilarious that hipsterclub.com is actually a networking site for people who have had total hip replacement surgery (or are about to)?

- Polaroid or Diana cameras: which is the ultimate hipster point-and-shoot?

- If you had an RPG game of your life, who would the final boss be?

- Has anyone out there ever had a Craigslist Missed Connection written about them? I know it has to happen out there somewhere, and I've seen some authors of posts on the bus and whatnot, but I don't think I personally know anyone who has had one written about them.

- Facial piercings: passe or still cool?

Arright, it's getting late. I am keeping my fingers crossed until this time tomorrow.