Almost exactly two years ago, I wrote a blog entitled "Now Don't Break Our Hearts."
I'm glad I wrote that. That blog was my attempt at capturing a wonderfully fulfilling idealistic victory in my life. In this entry, I recounted my political shift that occured in the months and years following Hurricane Katrina and the devastation she did on my hometown. My ideals changed. My ability to see things outside of the bubble in which I had grown up got sharper. Despite everything my family wanted and contrary to the values they thought I had been sold on, I voted with full conviction for Barack Obama.
Last night, the country admittedly turned on the Obama administration.
Sadly, most of the voting population bought into the hype that Obama is the cause of this terrible economy we find ourselves in and that "Obama-care" is evil (while out of the other side of their mouths they complain about the rising cost and inefficiency of healthcare). They've bought into this crap that Barack Obama is a Socialist, a Muslim, a natural-born Kenyan...and they buy it from a party full of misinformed, uneducated perverts, racists, closeted homosexuals, and formerly practicing witches who believe that ritual human sacrifice is still a rampant problem on Halloween in this country. The majority of this country allowed themselves to buckle under the campaign of fear that the (you gotta hand it to 'em) MORE AGGRESSIVE party- the GOP- has fed them in their desperation since '08.
Obama reached across the aisle to try to work WITH the Republicans, not against. Just as he promised in his campaign. He was rebuffed at every turn. Any honest, intelligent person will admit that.
Problem is...
we cannot only blame the GOP.
Barack's ideals remain intact. His honesty and integrity not only overshadow but completely obliterate that of his predecessor. Inside, he is every bit the President I voted for and in whom I still believe. But your intentions can only get you so far. This administration has not fought. This is what really hurts. In the great name of bipartisanship, Barack Obama has unfortunately laid down and allowed himself to be completely run over by the minority party of the last 2 years. Instead of knowing when he was not getting anywhere and then using the number that he had on his side, he continued to play nice and be polite.
Beset by an inherited economy that is as black as a night at my dad's East Texas ranch and a major Gulf Coast Oil Spill, it has been tough to watch my President and his noble agenda totally overwhelmed month-after-month, issue-after-issue. So often have I wanted to meet President Obama face to face and tell him "Come on man! Fight back! You've got the majority! Show this world what you're made of!!!"
Bill Maher wisely said (paraphrasing): "Say what you want about George W Bush, he had the balls to get the shit he wanted pushed through and he didn't care what the Congress wanted." While it may seem bully-ish, there is something admirable in a President (or at least Puppet Master Vice President and Man-Behind-The-Curtain Chief of Staff) who has a Plan and accomplishes it.
There are 2 years left. 2 years for this President who I still believe has real potential to change people's hearts and minds to get the job done. He has a lot of learning to do, but if there's one thing a man of Obama's intelligence and vision is capable of...it's Change.
After all, we Changed in '08, didn't we?
Now it's HIS turn.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Maybe I'm Very Strange, but...
I have quirks.
Perhaps you'd call them peccadillos. Or some of you may be so extreme as to consider them symptoms of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
My friend, Sam, should be able to understand the difference...although, ironically, I think he would be one of the first people to call me weird/strange/asshole for some of these unique habits I am about to describe to you.
Regardless of what people may think, I find that many of these quirks provide me with a sense of rhythm or balance or efficiency and, perhaps, comfort. They are mostly my own way of doing things in a manner that I feel I am doing them productively.
A few examples:
1) When I go to work as an actor, I establish a ritual prior to going on-stage or on-set that I will do religiously throughout the run of the show or while I'm shooting. These rituals will vary wildly from production-to-production; sometimes they will be ridiculously specific and sometimes they will be rather general.
While performing in a production of West Side Story at The Hudson Theatre in LA last year, I only had a very short amount of time to learn a sizeable leading role before Opening Night was upon us. Feeling a little overwhelmed at the aspect of performing this role in front of an audience for the first time, I decided before I left my apartment that I was going to just let go and trust that I had put my time in, done my work and was confident enough in my abilites to nail it.
So, I made some hot tea to help my voice, put it a mug and left for the theatre. On the way there, I played Guns and Roses "Sweet Child of Mine" to get me pumped up, followed by a Michael Jackson's "PYT", Chris Brown's "Forever", and- yes- "Single Ladies" by Beyonce. These songs got me energized and ready to take on whatever lay ahead of me. Arriving to the theatre, I claimed a small spot in the very cramped quarters backstage- placing my bag in my assigned locker, ordering my costumes by scene, and kept my script on top of my bag in the locker. I got into my first costume and went to the stage to stretch and get physically ready. After that, I moved to the room where our Make-Up Designer affixed me with the standard "J" tattoo...the Jets' gang tattoo. My last step before the house was to open and we were to prepare for curtain was to go to the stage and vocally warm-up. I saved this for last because it was, in my opinion, the most important part of my prep. I hadn't done a musical in 6 years, hadn't had a vocal lesson in 5 years and there were, admittedly, some notes in some of my songs that gave me a bit of trouble with such little rehearsal time. Focus and concentration during this time was very important to me, but I also made sure not to overdo it and be weak for the show. Once all this was completed, I allowed myself 5 minutes to go backstage and socialize with the cast, especially the rest of the Jets...for whom my character was responsible for and cared a great deal about.
The above underlined routine I followed exactly, religiously every single night of the 6-week run of the show. I did not deviate, not even once- right even down to placing my wallet and keys and hot tea mug in the same exact position in my locker every night. The only modification I made was on the days where we had 2 shows in one day- during which time I would scale down my warm-ups before the second performance so as not to wear myself out. With this structure in place, I felt that I had created a little order out of chaos and gave myself the time to be ready both physically and mentally and was able to hit the stage feeling confident ready and able to just jump right into my performance.
On the other end of the spectrum, the schedule that our production of The Bacchae was given in our venue at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival was so tight and short that I had no time to create a very structured routine. I had time enough to do a physical warm up and get into part of my costume at our housing before our walk up the Royal Mile to our venue. Once we got there, it was almost a mad dash to set up our props, complete the rest of our costume change, help the crew with any set pieces we could- oh, and get into some sort of last-minute place of concentration. I had no time or place to develop a routine that I usually enjoy...with the exception, of course, of finding the same spot to store my costume and street clothes, which is where they would stay for the rest of the run.
2) When I play tennis, I have a developed technique of wrapping the overgrip around my racquet that has to be exactly right: tight and firm around the grip without overlapping too much (of course it has to overlap but if it does so too much it throws off the balance of the wrapping). With this technique, my overgrip will end at just the right spot every time- just below the beginning of the frame at the end of the grip. I will, without hesitation, do it and re-do it or even throw unused grips away if this wrap is not succesfully done.
3) I pay by check.
Outdated? Maybe. For this I do not apologize. After living in Los Angeles on my own for 7 1/2 years, I have developed a routine whereby I understand the Postal Service and the various utility companies to which I graciously hand over my hard-earned money. It's a schedule...and it's one that is very easy to keep. Also, it allows me to prepare for and know when my money will be taken from my account...not to mention, allow me to manipulate the same withdrawal from my account by sending the check on the postmark date (making the bill technically not late by most utility/creditor standards).
Additionally, I have a Bank Envelope- purposely spelled with a capital 'B' and 'E.' It is a plain white envelope that I designated long ago to hold my cash and checks as I go to the bank to make a deposit. Since being in LA, I have used 4 envelopes. Yes, 4 envelopes in 7 years. I use them until they are completely worn out and unable to carry anything anymore. This particular trait I cannot explain...maybe I'm being environmentall conscious, but I doubt it. Maybe I'm lazy...or perhaps just a fan of keeping useful objects useful and present.
Dealing with the interruption of these habits is quite unsettling...
Today, while at Chase Bank (of whom I am only a member because they took over Washington Mutual- who I never had a problem with, by the way) the line was exceptionally long. I didn't mind...I had my iPod in and the Facebook app on my iPhone was keeping me sufficiently entertained. After a few minutes of standing there in my world, an attractive young lady named Anoush told me she could help me over at the desk.
I suppose I should have known something was up. Why pick me out of the perhaps 20 people in line? Why take me out ahead of the people who had been there longer?
She sat me down and told me the manager would take care of my transaction. She asked for my cash and checks. After looking around for her envelope and not finding one, she said "Let me have your envelope." Immediately, the bells went off... 'Why is this attractive yet unprepared and slightly impolite employee (what with her "Let me have's...") of a bank I don't like taking me out of line, sitting me at a desk and taking my Bank Envelope?' I reluctantly gave it to her.
She began to ask me how I pay my bills. 'Check,' I replied.
She rolled her eyes.
Strike One.
'Why do you do that? Have you ever paid them online?'
'Yes, a few times when I needed to pay while on vacation.'
'You should pay all your bills online. It makes more sense.'
'I appreciate that. Thank you. But I have a routine and I like to stick by it.'
'But that's silly.'
Strike Two.
'I'm sorry, but I don't think it is.'
'Well, can I just show you about our Chase Online Bill Pay?'
'If you'd like, but really I need to...'
She proceeded to show me an online process I had no interest in. I entertained her while also looking around for the damn Bank Manager so I could get my transaction and leave.
'Let's pay a bill today. Give me one of your cards.'
'No, that's really ok.'
'Oh come on! It's SO easy.'
'Honestly, I have no interest in paying online.'
'It's so so much safer though! People can't get your info as easily.'
Strike Three.
That's quite possibly the biggest crock of bullshit any sales rep has ever laid on me...and I've dealt with Anthem Blue Cross! Apparently this girl felt I was too dumb to know that account information can be pulled from the Internet, banks can be hacked...and that happens just as often, if not moreso, than someone stealing your info off a check that goes in the mail.
Normally I buckle when pitched some product or idea. You're reading the words of a guy, after all, who once allowed a Hare Krishna to talk him into a $5 donation since I wouldn't buy his book at LAX. The consequences of that: I gave him a $20 and he gave me a $5 back, insisting that was the deal we had made...
But from that point forward, I continued to block her every move. Even going so far as to be insistent that she process my deposit and let me leave.
When the Bank Manager finally came back, he gave me a receipt and walked away without even looking at me. So much for REAL customer service...
Oh, and by the way...he didn't give me my Bank Envelope back.
Sometimes quirks seem strange. Some of them I cannot even explain or define. But, they're mine. I own them. I control them.
And I enjoy the confidence they give...especially when someone tries to change them.
Perhaps you'd call them peccadillos. Or some of you may be so extreme as to consider them symptoms of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.
My friend, Sam, should be able to understand the difference...although, ironically, I think he would be one of the first people to call me weird/strange/asshole for some of these unique habits I am about to describe to you.
Regardless of what people may think, I find that many of these quirks provide me with a sense of rhythm or balance or efficiency and, perhaps, comfort. They are mostly my own way of doing things in a manner that I feel I am doing them productively.
A few examples:
1) When I go to work as an actor, I establish a ritual prior to going on-stage or on-set that I will do religiously throughout the run of the show or while I'm shooting. These rituals will vary wildly from production-to-production; sometimes they will be ridiculously specific and sometimes they will be rather general.
While performing in a production of West Side Story at The Hudson Theatre in LA last year, I only had a very short amount of time to learn a sizeable leading role before Opening Night was upon us. Feeling a little overwhelmed at the aspect of performing this role in front of an audience for the first time, I decided before I left my apartment that I was going to just let go and trust that I had put my time in, done my work and was confident enough in my abilites to nail it.
So, I made some hot tea to help my voice, put it a mug and left for the theatre. On the way there, I played Guns and Roses "Sweet Child of Mine" to get me pumped up, followed by a Michael Jackson's "PYT", Chris Brown's "Forever", and- yes- "Single Ladies" by Beyonce. These songs got me energized and ready to take on whatever lay ahead of me. Arriving to the theatre, I claimed a small spot in the very cramped quarters backstage- placing my bag in my assigned locker, ordering my costumes by scene, and kept my script on top of my bag in the locker. I got into my first costume and went to the stage to stretch and get physically ready. After that, I moved to the room where our Make-Up Designer affixed me with the standard "J" tattoo...the Jets' gang tattoo. My last step before the house was to open and we were to prepare for curtain was to go to the stage and vocally warm-up. I saved this for last because it was, in my opinion, the most important part of my prep. I hadn't done a musical in 6 years, hadn't had a vocal lesson in 5 years and there were, admittedly, some notes in some of my songs that gave me a bit of trouble with such little rehearsal time. Focus and concentration during this time was very important to me, but I also made sure not to overdo it and be weak for the show. Once all this was completed, I allowed myself 5 minutes to go backstage and socialize with the cast, especially the rest of the Jets...for whom my character was responsible for and cared a great deal about.
The above underlined routine I followed exactly, religiously every single night of the 6-week run of the show. I did not deviate, not even once- right even down to placing my wallet and keys and hot tea mug in the same exact position in my locker every night. The only modification I made was on the days where we had 2 shows in one day- during which time I would scale down my warm-ups before the second performance so as not to wear myself out. With this structure in place, I felt that I had created a little order out of chaos and gave myself the time to be ready both physically and mentally and was able to hit the stage feeling confident ready and able to just jump right into my performance.
On the other end of the spectrum, the schedule that our production of The Bacchae was given in our venue at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival was so tight and short that I had no time to create a very structured routine. I had time enough to do a physical warm up and get into part of my costume at our housing before our walk up the Royal Mile to our venue. Once we got there, it was almost a mad dash to set up our props, complete the rest of our costume change, help the crew with any set pieces we could- oh, and get into some sort of last-minute place of concentration. I had no time or place to develop a routine that I usually enjoy...with the exception, of course, of finding the same spot to store my costume and street clothes, which is where they would stay for the rest of the run.
2) When I play tennis, I have a developed technique of wrapping the overgrip around my racquet that has to be exactly right: tight and firm around the grip without overlapping too much (of course it has to overlap but if it does so too much it throws off the balance of the wrapping). With this technique, my overgrip will end at just the right spot every time- just below the beginning of the frame at the end of the grip. I will, without hesitation, do it and re-do it or even throw unused grips away if this wrap is not succesfully done.
3) I pay by check.
Outdated? Maybe. For this I do not apologize. After living in Los Angeles on my own for 7 1/2 years, I have developed a routine whereby I understand the Postal Service and the various utility companies to which I graciously hand over my hard-earned money. It's a schedule...and it's one that is very easy to keep. Also, it allows me to prepare for and know when my money will be taken from my account...not to mention, allow me to manipulate the same withdrawal from my account by sending the check on the postmark date (making the bill technically not late by most utility/creditor standards).
Additionally, I have a Bank Envelope- purposely spelled with a capital 'B' and 'E.' It is a plain white envelope that I designated long ago to hold my cash and checks as I go to the bank to make a deposit. Since being in LA, I have used 4 envelopes. Yes, 4 envelopes in 7 years. I use them until they are completely worn out and unable to carry anything anymore. This particular trait I cannot explain...maybe I'm being environmentall conscious, but I doubt it. Maybe I'm lazy...or perhaps just a fan of keeping useful objects useful and present.
Dealing with the interruption of these habits is quite unsettling...
Today, while at Chase Bank (of whom I am only a member because they took over Washington Mutual- who I never had a problem with, by the way) the line was exceptionally long. I didn't mind...I had my iPod in and the Facebook app on my iPhone was keeping me sufficiently entertained. After a few minutes of standing there in my world, an attractive young lady named Anoush told me she could help me over at the desk.
I suppose I should have known something was up. Why pick me out of the perhaps 20 people in line? Why take me out ahead of the people who had been there longer?
She sat me down and told me the manager would take care of my transaction. She asked for my cash and checks. After looking around for her envelope and not finding one, she said "Let me have your envelope." Immediately, the bells went off... 'Why is this attractive yet unprepared and slightly impolite employee (what with her "Let me have's...") of a bank I don't like taking me out of line, sitting me at a desk and taking my Bank Envelope?' I reluctantly gave it to her.
She began to ask me how I pay my bills. 'Check,' I replied.
She rolled her eyes.
Strike One.
'Why do you do that? Have you ever paid them online?'
'Yes, a few times when I needed to pay while on vacation.'
'You should pay all your bills online. It makes more sense.'
'I appreciate that. Thank you. But I have a routine and I like to stick by it.'
'But that's silly.'
Strike Two.
'I'm sorry, but I don't think it is.'
'Well, can I just show you about our Chase Online Bill Pay?'
'If you'd like, but really I need to...'
She proceeded to show me an online process I had no interest in. I entertained her while also looking around for the damn Bank Manager so I could get my transaction and leave.
'Let's pay a bill today. Give me one of your cards.'
'No, that's really ok.'
'Oh come on! It's SO easy.'
'Honestly, I have no interest in paying online.'
'It's so so much safer though! People can't get your info as easily.'
Strike Three.
That's quite possibly the biggest crock of bullshit any sales rep has ever laid on me...and I've dealt with Anthem Blue Cross! Apparently this girl felt I was too dumb to know that account information can be pulled from the Internet, banks can be hacked...and that happens just as often, if not moreso, than someone stealing your info off a check that goes in the mail.
Normally I buckle when pitched some product or idea. You're reading the words of a guy, after all, who once allowed a Hare Krishna to talk him into a $5 donation since I wouldn't buy his book at LAX. The consequences of that: I gave him a $20 and he gave me a $5 back, insisting that was the deal we had made...
But from that point forward, I continued to block her every move. Even going so far as to be insistent that she process my deposit and let me leave.
When the Bank Manager finally came back, he gave me a receipt and walked away without even looking at me. So much for REAL customer service...
Oh, and by the way...he didn't give me my Bank Envelope back.
Sometimes quirks seem strange. Some of them I cannot even explain or define. But, they're mine. I own them. I control them.
And I enjoy the confidence they give...especially when someone tries to change them.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
We Could Use A Rambo...
Say what you want about the movies of the 80's.
I mean, sure, there are some classics from that time period in cinema...but they also produced some major stinkers in that decade. Come on...Mannequin!? I don't care how big a cult classic that has become...it's a story about a store clerk who falls in love with the talking mannequin in his department store window!!!!
Say even more of what you want about movies from the 80s starring guys who sound like they're in the middle of a stroke (Stallone...).
But, you know- they did get some things right occasionally.
Rambo, First Blood: Part II came on TV today. And you know, the 80s seemed to be making a political statement at the end of the Cold Way: "If you're a bad guy, we're going to send one of our bad asses to KICK THE EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF YOU." There is something inspiring about that, and it makes me wonder:
Why don't we have more of that today?
Only 3 people come immediately to mind when I think of people who this country- the supposed Best Country in the world- cannot locate.
1) Amelia Earhart...and I can't say I blame anyone for this. After all, she did crash somewhere in the largest body of water on this planet in an era where technology couldn't track her very well.
2) Jimmy Hoffa...listen, if the Mafia doesn't want you found, not even Spy Satellites are gonna find you.
and
3) Osama Bin Laden.
Now, the 1st 2 are forgiveable. But, let's keep #3 in perspective, Amelia and Jimmy didn't ATTACK OUR FUCKING COUNTRY.
What I want to know is what exactly is stopping us from having a set of balls? What is keeping us from hiring some bad ass mercenary son of a bitch, giving him a Pay-Per-View camera crew and letting him have full reign over every nook and cranny of Afghanistan to find and kick the ever-loving shit out of Osama Bin Laden?!?!
I just read a Vanity Fair article about a former-biker-turned-born-again-Christian-preacher in Pennsylvania who has made it his life's mission to hunting down and murdering Ugandan terrorist and leader of the Lord's Resistance Army in Africa (who kidnap children and make them part of his army), Joseph Kony, because this preacher believes God wants him to.
Now, if one former Hell's Angel turned Christian, has enough conviction to sell everything he owns to fund his mission to stop some jungle warrior, why doesn't the USA say "Ok, enough...we're ceasing all unnecessary military spending and focusing on finding this old, diabetic Muslim whackjob who killed thousands of our people almost 9 years ago?"
Is it because we've become too concerned with violating international laws? Is it because we're worried about civil rights? Or is it just because we're being too polite?
I don't know what Bush's former and Obama's current excuses are, but I do know there are certain things that mean a lot to the people of this country. And one of those things is having a government who knows that you have to draw a line in the sand every now and then and act like they're in some old Dirty Harry movie. You know the one...where the hero (us) stares in the direction of the bad guy who has fled (Osama) and says "You done fucked up now. I'm coming for your ass."
Maybe 9 years is too long. Maybe there are too many conflicting opinions from the innumerable Talking Heads out there now to get that job done.
But I still would relish the day that we go all Postal on Bin Laden's ass.
And I think the widows and parentless children of all those who dies on 9/11 would too.
I mean, sure, there are some classics from that time period in cinema...but they also produced some major stinkers in that decade. Come on...Mannequin!? I don't care how big a cult classic that has become...it's a story about a store clerk who falls in love with the talking mannequin in his department store window!!!!
Say even more of what you want about movies from the 80s starring guys who sound like they're in the middle of a stroke (Stallone...).
But, you know- they did get some things right occasionally.
Rambo, First Blood: Part II came on TV today. And you know, the 80s seemed to be making a political statement at the end of the Cold Way: "If you're a bad guy, we're going to send one of our bad asses to KICK THE EVER-LOVING SHIT OUT OF YOU." There is something inspiring about that, and it makes me wonder:
Why don't we have more of that today?
Only 3 people come immediately to mind when I think of people who this country- the supposed Best Country in the world- cannot locate.
1) Amelia Earhart...and I can't say I blame anyone for this. After all, she did crash somewhere in the largest body of water on this planet in an era where technology couldn't track her very well.
2) Jimmy Hoffa...listen, if the Mafia doesn't want you found, not even Spy Satellites are gonna find you.
and
3) Osama Bin Laden.
Now, the 1st 2 are forgiveable. But, let's keep #3 in perspective, Amelia and Jimmy didn't ATTACK OUR FUCKING COUNTRY.
What I want to know is what exactly is stopping us from having a set of balls? What is keeping us from hiring some bad ass mercenary son of a bitch, giving him a Pay-Per-View camera crew and letting him have full reign over every nook and cranny of Afghanistan to find and kick the ever-loving shit out of Osama Bin Laden?!?!
I just read a Vanity Fair article about a former-biker-turned-born-again-Christian-preacher in Pennsylvania who has made it his life's mission to hunting down and murdering Ugandan terrorist and leader of the Lord's Resistance Army in Africa (who kidnap children and make them part of his army), Joseph Kony, because this preacher believes God wants him to.
Now, if one former Hell's Angel turned Christian, has enough conviction to sell everything he owns to fund his mission to stop some jungle warrior, why doesn't the USA say "Ok, enough...we're ceasing all unnecessary military spending and focusing on finding this old, diabetic Muslim whackjob who killed thousands of our people almost 9 years ago?"
Is it because we've become too concerned with violating international laws? Is it because we're worried about civil rights? Or is it just because we're being too polite?
I don't know what Bush's former and Obama's current excuses are, but I do know there are certain things that mean a lot to the people of this country. And one of those things is having a government who knows that you have to draw a line in the sand every now and then and act like they're in some old Dirty Harry movie. You know the one...where the hero (us) stares in the direction of the bad guy who has fled (Osama) and says "You done fucked up now. I'm coming for your ass."
Maybe 9 years is too long. Maybe there are too many conflicting opinions from the innumerable Talking Heads out there now to get that job done.
But I still would relish the day that we go all Postal on Bin Laden's ass.
And I think the widows and parentless children of all those who dies on 9/11 would too.
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Champions.
Just felt like I should inform you all...
my West Hollywood Dodgeball Team, BALLZ DEEP, won the 2010 Winter Season Championship on Monday night at the Staples Center!
The win cemented our perfect 10-0 season as we became the winners of the 1st Ever Golden...um...Cock. As in chicken!!! Get your heads out of the gutter!
Oh, and by the way, rising pop star Ke$ha played on the opposing team...and I nailed her right in the kisser...
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/video/video.php?v=383661891445&subj=23409278
And a pic of the Champions with the aforementioned Golden Cock:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/photo.php?pid=4486513&op=1&o=global&view=global&subj=23409278&id=531546402&fbid=383397691402
It's good to be King.
my West Hollywood Dodgeball Team, BALLZ DEEP, won the 2010 Winter Season Championship on Monday night at the Staples Center!
The win cemented our perfect 10-0 season as we became the winners of the 1st Ever Golden...um...Cock. As in chicken!!! Get your heads out of the gutter!
Oh, and by the way, rising pop star Ke$ha played on the opposing team...and I nailed her right in the kisser...
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/video/video.php?v=383661891445&subj=23409278
And a pic of the Champions with the aforementioned Golden Cock:
http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/photo.php?pid=4486513&op=1&o=global&view=global&subj=23409278&id=531546402&fbid=383397691402
It's good to be King.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
A Diamond In The Rough
You have to know where to look for these things.
They exist. In LA. They really do. Lately I've found myself on a kick to find places in LA- be they parks or theatres or theaters (there is a difference) or restaurants or cafes or attractions that fly under the radar but that are worthy of attention. Places that are intriguing or interesting... I am pleased to announce that I have my first report for you folks out there in LaLa Land!
Last week I went with my friend Mary to see a David Lynch Double Feature at the New Beverly Cinema on Beverly Blvd near La Brea.
Now, travel back in time...remember what theaters were like before the age of the Multiplex? Remember theaters before The Grove? Or, for you New Orleaneans, before The Palace ran every single theater in NOLA out of business. The days when theaters didn't cost you your first born child for admission and concessions were reasonable enough so that you could also afford lunch the next day.
Congratulations! You have returned to those days with the New Bev! The New Beverly Cinema is a family-run operation that specializes in showing movies that you can't really see anymore in theaters. Rare movies, old movies, indie flicks, Grindhouse films- you name it! The family loves movies and they provide an opportunity for people to enjoy themselves with a good ol' fashioned movie-going experience.
Being that the movies they show were mostly not commercial smashes when released (though many acheived cult status or are widely regarded as fine films), the people coming to see them are seeing them out of a love for movies. You know what that means? You guessed it! During our David Lynch Double Feature, not one single cell phone was turned on!!! Not one person got up to answer a call from a stock broker or agent or publicist or whatever in the hell else people do that crap for. And though giddy before the movie started, once the 2 old vintage movie trailers began before the 1st and 2nd films, you could hear a pin drop from the audience throughout the flick (barring laughter or, in Twin Peaks's case, gasps).
Oh, and by the way, Quentin Tarantino recently bought the building in which the New Bev operates to save it from having to close. And from time to time, he shows up to watch movies and screen some of his own. Inglorious Basterds, according to an article I read, had one of its first screenings at the New Bev and the revenue from that night made the theater's year. How cool is that?
So, for all of you who love movies but a) can't stand the majority of the crap they're cranking out these days or b) can't stand the people you have to share the large, noisy, crowded theaters with, well you have an alternative....why dontcha take a trip back in time? Go to a theater that won't break your bank, where you can see movies that are interesting enough to be given a screening by movie-lovers for movie-lovers without being snooty or pretentious. Support a theater that's open for the sake of enjoying movies...
http://www.newbevcinema.com/
They exist. In LA. They really do. Lately I've found myself on a kick to find places in LA- be they parks or theatres or theaters (there is a difference) or restaurants or cafes or attractions that fly under the radar but that are worthy of attention. Places that are intriguing or interesting... I am pleased to announce that I have my first report for you folks out there in LaLa Land!
Last week I went with my friend Mary to see a David Lynch Double Feature at the New Beverly Cinema on Beverly Blvd near La Brea.
Now, travel back in time...remember what theaters were like before the age of the Multiplex? Remember theaters before The Grove? Or, for you New Orleaneans, before The Palace ran every single theater in NOLA out of business. The days when theaters didn't cost you your first born child for admission and concessions were reasonable enough so that you could also afford lunch the next day.
Congratulations! You have returned to those days with the New Bev! The New Beverly Cinema is a family-run operation that specializes in showing movies that you can't really see anymore in theaters. Rare movies, old movies, indie flicks, Grindhouse films- you name it! The family loves movies and they provide an opportunity for people to enjoy themselves with a good ol' fashioned movie-going experience.
Being that the movies they show were mostly not commercial smashes when released (though many acheived cult status or are widely regarded as fine films), the people coming to see them are seeing them out of a love for movies. You know what that means? You guessed it! During our David Lynch Double Feature, not one single cell phone was turned on!!! Not one person got up to answer a call from a stock broker or agent or publicist or whatever in the hell else people do that crap for. And though giddy before the movie started, once the 2 old vintage movie trailers began before the 1st and 2nd films, you could hear a pin drop from the audience throughout the flick (barring laughter or, in Twin Peaks's case, gasps).
Oh, and by the way, Quentin Tarantino recently bought the building in which the New Bev operates to save it from having to close. And from time to time, he shows up to watch movies and screen some of his own. Inglorious Basterds, according to an article I read, had one of its first screenings at the New Bev and the revenue from that night made the theater's year. How cool is that?
So, for all of you who love movies but a) can't stand the majority of the crap they're cranking out these days or b) can't stand the people you have to share the large, noisy, crowded theaters with, well you have an alternative....why dontcha take a trip back in time? Go to a theater that won't break your bank, where you can see movies that are interesting enough to be given a screening by movie-lovers for movie-lovers without being snooty or pretentious. Support a theater that's open for the sake of enjoying movies...
http://www.newbevcinema.com/
Friday, April 10, 2009
"Klopek? What is that---Slavic?"
About a month ago, someone moved into the studio apartment above me.
As of this moment in time, 5:56 pm on Friday, April 10, 2009, I have yet to see this person. There IS someone up there. I know it.
I do not know if this is a guy or a girl.
But I have heard
voices
footsteps
and the sound of television.
I have seen
the lights on when coming home at night.
Sometimes even REALLY late at night.
I guess I must be thankful.
The last tenant of Apartment 6 was a sassy black lady who used to walk around above me in what I swear was platform shoes at all hours of the day and night. She made her presence all too often known.
However, this tenant is a mystery.
On a street that is filled with some very colorful characters all of whom makes this block as interesting as it, this mysterious neighbor is most certainly an intriguing interruption in the rhythm that Stanley Ave has developed. I REALLY want to know what's going on up there. Who lives above me??? Whose life is lived just 8 or 10 feet above my head? Is it a normal, average person? Is it someone who deliberately keeps their identity from all of us in the building and neighborhood? Is there something sinister going on up there?
Call me Gladys Kravitz, but I like to know what's going on around me. I like to see it comin'.
I am maybe 2 weeks away from getting out the old Spy Tech toys from when I was younger and solving this conundrum personally. Either that or smoke bombing them to see if I can drive them out like rats. I don't think either method is genuinely over the top or intrusive.
Do you?
As of this moment in time, 5:56 pm on Friday, April 10, 2009, I have yet to see this person. There IS someone up there. I know it.
I do not know if this is a guy or a girl.
But I have heard
voices
footsteps
and the sound of television.
I have seen
the lights on when coming home at night.
Sometimes even REALLY late at night.
I guess I must be thankful.
The last tenant of Apartment 6 was a sassy black lady who used to walk around above me in what I swear was platform shoes at all hours of the day and night. She made her presence all too often known.
However, this tenant is a mystery.
On a street that is filled with some very colorful characters all of whom makes this block as interesting as it, this mysterious neighbor is most certainly an intriguing interruption in the rhythm that Stanley Ave has developed. I REALLY want to know what's going on up there. Who lives above me??? Whose life is lived just 8 or 10 feet above my head? Is it a normal, average person? Is it someone who deliberately keeps their identity from all of us in the building and neighborhood? Is there something sinister going on up there?
Call me Gladys Kravitz, but I like to know what's going on around me. I like to see it comin'.
I am maybe 2 weeks away from getting out the old Spy Tech toys from when I was younger and solving this conundrum personally. Either that or smoke bombing them to see if I can drive them out like rats. I don't think either method is genuinely over the top or intrusive.
Do you?
Saturday, March 21, 2009
A Light In A Windown In A Cabin In The Jungle
I've been trying to write this for a while.
I continue to start over.
I think it's very important for me to say absolutely clearly just exactly WHY Lost is one of the best stories that has ever been told in any form.
First of all, let's put aside the fact that the writers, directors and Execs who oversee the production of this show are Masters of their craft. Anyone who has watched from Episode 1 like I have and has seen any of the season premieres or finales or the episode in season 2 (?) entitled "Numbers"---or, for that matter, ANY episode save for the first 1/2 of season 3---would be able to tell you that. When was the last time a tv series (or even really a movie) produced such a quantity of what I like to call "Oh Shit Moments"????
"Oh Shit Moments" (OSM) are just that. And you know what I'm talking about. Moments during a story- book, tv show, movie, play- in which your only genuine reaction is "OOOOOOOH SHIT!!!"
Well, folks, Lost is chock full of those moments. Almost every episode. I cannot think of a show since The Twilight Zone (the original, mind you) that has produced such fine suspense and mystery combined with humanity and drama. But, the difference with Lost is that Lost is one story!!! The Zone were a collection of stories. The suspense that Lost creates is unbelievable. The ability of the show's staff to constantly raise the stakes and make the story even more stressful and tense and dire and...well, scary, is something I completely admire. In this world that Locke, Jack, Sawyer, Kate, Sayid, Juliet, Desmond and so on live in there is continuous danger; and so, we- as observers- are a part of this. We feel the danger right along with them. When those cliffhangers come at the ends of the episodes, we have those OSM's because we know that those moments have SO much riding on them. Those decisions that have to be made, those revelations that are discovered, those characters that finally meet- these are all moments that are built up so well that we the audience might as well be on The Island ourselves. The reason Lost is a success is because these folks know what the hell they are doing.
And also, what other TV series can you think of that in its 6th season still has millions of loyal viewers despite the fact that NONE of us still KNOW WHAT THE HELL THIS SHOW IS ABOUT!??!?! I mean, one week it seems that the show is about time travel. The next week it's about destiny. The next week it's really a love story- man and woman, father and son, brother and brother, man and the world. Sometimes the show plays like one big conspiracy theory. And yet even still sometimes Lost seems to be a metaphor for man vs nature. Whatever this story is- whatever JJ Abrams, Damon Lindelof, and Carlton Cuse (who have all, by the way, earned my loyalty to any project they ever produce for ever and ever) are going to reveal to us at the storied end of the series next season- it has been told masterfully. It has sucked us in, and it has scared us, it has made us cry, it has worried us, it has made us laugh, it has made us feel like we're loved, like we're not loved, like we know what it is to be powerless against your situation but to fight on anyway. To use what little we have to soldier on. Even in the face of black smoke cloud monsters, evil Others, scheming madmen billionaires, a crazy pop-eyed Island dwelling double-crosser who has all the answers but can never be trusted and, the most difficult obstacle of all- the desire to get back to the life you know but the knowledge that you'll never be the same without those you love.
I continue to start over.
I think it's very important for me to say absolutely clearly just exactly WHY Lost is one of the best stories that has ever been told in any form.
First of all, let's put aside the fact that the writers, directors and Execs who oversee the production of this show are Masters of their craft. Anyone who has watched from Episode 1 like I have and has seen any of the season premieres or finales or the episode in season 2 (?) entitled "Numbers"---or, for that matter, ANY episode save for the first 1/2 of season 3---would be able to tell you that. When was the last time a tv series (or even really a movie) produced such a quantity of what I like to call "Oh Shit Moments"????
"Oh Shit Moments" (OSM) are just that. And you know what I'm talking about. Moments during a story- book, tv show, movie, play- in which your only genuine reaction is "OOOOOOOH SHIT!!!"
Well, folks, Lost is chock full of those moments. Almost every episode. I cannot think of a show since The Twilight Zone (the original, mind you) that has produced such fine suspense and mystery combined with humanity and drama. But, the difference with Lost is that Lost is one story!!! The Zone were a collection of stories. The suspense that Lost creates is unbelievable. The ability of the show's staff to constantly raise the stakes and make the story even more stressful and tense and dire and...well, scary, is something I completely admire. In this world that Locke, Jack, Sawyer, Kate, Sayid, Juliet, Desmond and so on live in there is continuous danger; and so, we- as observers- are a part of this. We feel the danger right along with them. When those cliffhangers come at the ends of the episodes, we have those OSM's because we know that those moments have SO much riding on them. Those decisions that have to be made, those revelations that are discovered, those characters that finally meet- these are all moments that are built up so well that we the audience might as well be on The Island ourselves. The reason Lost is a success is because these folks know what the hell they are doing.
And also, what other TV series can you think of that in its 6th season still has millions of loyal viewers despite the fact that NONE of us still KNOW WHAT THE HELL THIS SHOW IS ABOUT!??!?! I mean, one week it seems that the show is about time travel. The next week it's about destiny. The next week it's really a love story- man and woman, father and son, brother and brother, man and the world. Sometimes the show plays like one big conspiracy theory. And yet even still sometimes Lost seems to be a metaphor for man vs nature. Whatever this story is- whatever JJ Abrams, Damon Lindelof, and Carlton Cuse (who have all, by the way, earned my loyalty to any project they ever produce for ever and ever) are going to reveal to us at the storied end of the series next season- it has been told masterfully. It has sucked us in, and it has scared us, it has made us cry, it has worried us, it has made us laugh, it has made us feel like we're loved, like we're not loved, like we know what it is to be powerless against your situation but to fight on anyway. To use what little we have to soldier on. Even in the face of black smoke cloud monsters, evil Others, scheming madmen billionaires, a crazy pop-eyed Island dwelling double-crosser who has all the answers but can never be trusted and, the most difficult obstacle of all- the desire to get back to the life you know but the knowledge that you'll never be the same without those you love.
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