Aisle 27: The Best Seller/Stationary Aisle
It's been a while since I've written something for this blog. I've been going through the ups and downs that comes with post graduate life and being smack dab in my mid-twenties. I've also been stuck in this horrible state of almost writer's block. Almost writer's block as I've had tons of ideas just I can't get myself to commit to any one of them. Such is the life I guess... but NO! No I will not sit here and wistfully pine away the better parts of my life hoping for something better to come along, or have something fall into my lap.
I've been thinking about how I have been writing this blog thing, which I've noticed I've done repeatedly in various posts. The tone is more or less how I talk in real life, well when I'm given a chance to talk and ramble on and on. The aisle system creates a spacial awareness, for the most part. For example anything in the aisle 34 range will no doubt be about music or movies or what ever else is there (comics I think will be discussed there soon enough), and aisle 15 is... well kind of odd. What I noticed today, actually with aisle 27 (the one we're in right now) is that I'm somewhat mimicking the aisles at three of the grocery stores I frequented as a child, the A&P in Taftville, the old Stop&Shop in the Norwichtown Mall (when the mall had an arcade and a Caldor's) and the Big Y on the west side of Norwich, near Bozrah. This aisle in fact is taken from the Big Y, as it all ways amazed me that they sold best sellers in the same aisle as the tools which one would traditionally use to write a best seller (pens, pencils, paper, tape and so forth, you know stationary). To me it seems like I am not just categorizing the blog's content but I'm also making a spacial map of this blog. I'm seeing this blog as somewhere you can wander about from here to there glancing at the crap on the shelves, and it is this idea (sort of) that's got me re-stirring some old writing pots.
My Master's thesis (for what it was) was about the political trespass over the borders in cyberspace. It was my first real tentative step into a political frame of mind, for I am one to normally run in terror when conversations turn to politics. It was also super geeky and has instilled upon me even more geekness.
Now before I get too ahead of things let me explain this use of the word geekness, or geekocity. Rather than look at the word "Geek" as a negative connotation (one who gets beat up in fifth grade for knowing the intimate construction of the Great Pyramids of Giza - that would have been me) and not looking at geek in its traditional meaning (one who, in the spirit of entertainment, bites the heads off of chickens and pretty much eats things no human should), I am using the term geek to mean one who is passionately interested into something and being so learns all the ins and outs of that topic. Pretty much I'm using Sarah Vowell's use of the word in her essay on going goth (can't cite it as I don't have the book with me, it's in her first collection of essays though). So I am a geek about this. When I talk about this (and a few other topics) I get really excited and can go on forever (or until some one slaps me).
The topic of which I geek out over is not political, at least not overtly for just about everything is political sadly. What I geek out over is the concept of spacial constructions in cyberspace. Yes, I said it, I like the space in cyberspace. Which I believe since you need computers in order to have cyberspace that makes me a computer geek (ack!). So there you have it, I'm a geek who likes to talk about how space performs and is performed in cyberspace and this is what I figure I should write about for a bit.
Ok so I'm actually at work and can't go too much into this, plus if I do write something serious on this topic (lord knows this blog is a far cry from serious) I would like to actually attempt getting it published. But that's a while off isn't it? First I would have to actually write something. As an aside let me just say that there is nothing more motivational than having some one successful in your life cheer you on to do something. That's all I'm saying about that.
Really quickly though there was this interesting essay I read way back during my first semester as a freshman undergrad about verisimilitude. It dealt with a map of a kingdom that as the map was destroyed so was the kingdom. Shows how the copy or imitation can directly effect the original or some such thing. To be honest I can't recall what the intent of the actual essay was, what I get from this now (having not read the article for over six years is the idea that a representation of an idea (the map is the representation of the idea of the kingdom) can hold sway over the idea. In connection to my geekout moment, the way we talk about the internet and the way we have created the outer facade of the internet is a representation of what the internet really is. As we have made this facade resemble our tangible world the internet as an idea has become structured in our heads as a spacial world unto itself as oppose to what it really is, a series of 1s and 0s and other computer type stuff. As our perception of the world around us changes so to does the way we construct the internet (this is where if I was actually writing this as an essay I would be backing up this claim with references and examples, I'm not so I ain't doin' that).
Now it is just a matter of deciding on what to actually write on. I'm also kind of interested in the performance of identity and that topic is made for the internet. Well we shall see in the next few months what I come up with. Until then, cheers!
Friday, December 28
Saturday, September 22
Aisle 34 1/4
Aisle 34 1/4: The Movie Shelf
This has been a long time in the coming, of course I haven't even begin to think out what I'm about to write down here. And with that wonderful prologue, I give you a review of Rob Zombie's crack at Halloween!
I am very enamoured with the original Halloween, truth be told I enjoyed the first three films of the series (yes I, Carl James Olson Jr. BA MA - Pretentious no? - LOVED Halloween 3: Season of the Witch, their heads exploded with bugs and snakes! AWESOME!) and while I enjoyed the rest of the movies more or less I couldn't see any point moving the series on, aside from the fact that with every new sequel that came out I had another reason to watch the original. For me the first Halloween was beautiful. It was simple, it had only a little bit of blood, and it relied on surprise, atmosphere and music to create the scares (also I have had a long standing crush on Jamie Lee Curtis).
I also am a big fan of Mr. Zombie's work (tee hee... I love saying Mr. Zombie), be it his music, his videos, his movies or just the way he protrays himself. I find the man fascinating. I know everyone has found faults with his other movies (House of 1000 Corpses was a ridiculous rip off of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Devil's Rejects felt nothing like the first one) but I found their own unique charm (Corpses was what you'd expect from a Zombie music video and Rejects was possibly one of the best serial killer road movies ever made, Natural Born Killers outs it just slightly). He mixes an absurd amount of comedy in with horrible violence, and it is quite wretched the things that happen in his films. Though this comedy he slipped in isn't the goofy things you see in Bmovies, or the self referential "isn't it ironic that we are ripping off these older movies" crap you come across in the mainstream horror films. Mr. Zombie's humor is as harsh and honest as his violence is, and it's sparse. You laugh at the characters and the relationships because they are over heightened to the point of being absurd, you see this in Halloween in the first few minutes with a glimpse into the Myers' residency. What you come across during the first ten to twenty minutes of the film is the most dysfunctional family that ever graced this moderately decent greenish-brown Earth. Growing up in a loving, but often slightly off kiltered household I couldn't help but laugh. Yes it's horrible, but if I remember well from what I've read of Aristotle, comedy, to those crazy Greeks, was all about the horrible and the grotesque. We recognize our faults in the comedic character taken to the extreme and that is what we see in the opening.
The interesting thing this film does is done in the first section of the film. Michael Myers' childhood. I have always been interested in why people act the way they do and this fascination tends to looking towards the extreme polls of the human condition, looking for the motivation behind the acts of the incredibly holy and the incredibly evil. What causes a person to go out and dedicate their life to living in a leper pit tending the sick? Or in Michael Myers' case (and too many real life cases sadly), what causes a person to one night kill their whole family and then kill again and again? This new Halloween attempts to answer some of these questions by showing all the text book signs of a serial killer in the young Michael Myers. The animal cruelty, the abusive parents, the withdrawal from society, the lack of understanding of the consequences of their actions, it's all there. But it obviously does not run in the family as Laurie Strode seems to be pretty normal (possibly due to being raised in a more loving and might I add AWESOME family). Laurie, Michael's youngest sister, was a baby when the murders too place gets placed in this awesome family, they were silly, loving and the complete opposite of the Myers - though Michael's mom was sweet (yay Sheri Moon Zombie!).
Over all I enjoyed the film. I liked the psychology behind it (not too sure how accurate is was, but what little I did know I felt jived pretty well with this film), the pacing was well done and the over all feel was a pleasant mix of the original and of a Rob Zombie film. He kept in key points, cleared up some plot holes and made it more believable, he also tried to make sure there wouldn't be a sequel (though there will be at least three more... please let them remake the third one! I need to see flashing shamrocks on TVs again). The scares sadly don't match up with the original. Mr. Zombie relied a bit too much on disturbing the audience with realistic violence, oh it was well done, don't get me wrong. This was possibly his best use of realistic violence in movies (possibly gearing up for that crime film he wants to do). I'm squeamish when it comes to violence, or seeing people get hurt, or hearing about people's pain. I tend to empathize too much and the backs of my thighs get all tingly (it's weird, I know). The film made me wince repeatedly, but it only scared me to the state of jumping, maybe, three times. You know, though, as far as horror movies go now a days three jumps in one film is quite an accomplishment, then again I felt the need to turn around and explain WHY things were happening in the film to the three teenagers (who probably thought this was an original film) who couldn't stop talking. I also noticed that all the scares that got me were simple scares, quick bits that caught me off guard. the kind of scares I like best, the ones that give me a start and then smile at the rush of adrenaline.
One thing, ONE thing that I, without a doubt loved, LOVED I say, was the music. Mr. Zombie's films have possibly the best soundtracks, his use of songs which run counter to the action on screen is genius (kudos to Mr. Zombie and Tyler Bates for doing this for three movies). I won't give too much away but Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper" comes up twice and is awesome. Then there's also the use of John Carpenter's original music. It was used well, it was used correctly and Tyler Bates managed to corrupt the music slightly to give it an edge that was lacking in the original. The original was simple and effective, but to be honest it did sound like it was being played on a Casio keyboard, this new version sounds like the original Casio was used but was sightly out of tune (how a keyboard can be our of tune is beyond me but yeah there it is), it created a nice jarring effect.
This film didn't kill the original at all. It actually can stand next to the original peacefully on the video store rack and not harm the original with either purporting to be better than the first or be an embarrassment to the original intent of the film (like so many of the horror remakes). I know this film isn't for everyone, I actually wouldn't recommend it for everyone to see either, but if you like horror films and you can deal with a bit of the old ultra violence you'd like this I believe. happily it didn't live up to my greatest fear, that it would become one of those hyper torture films. Oh there was some messed up stuff to be sure but it wasn't nauseating like the things you find in Saw or Hostel and the violence didn't take up the main focus of the film. This was not a film about gruesome deaths, it was a film about family (no really... it was), and it was a film about morals (honestly!). In other words it was a horror film true and through.
Post-script or Epilogue to this whole thing:
So the reason this was long in coming (saw the film at the start of September and here it is the end of September I'm writing about it) is because a lot has been going on. Fun things, crummy things, lame things, wonderful things, and mundane things. Things that have taken up much of my time, for better or worse. I'm still going to try to keep this blog going though. Enjoy!
This has been a long time in the coming, of course I haven't even begin to think out what I'm about to write down here. And with that wonderful prologue, I give you a review of Rob Zombie's crack at Halloween!
I am very enamoured with the original Halloween, truth be told I enjoyed the first three films of the series (yes I, Carl James Olson Jr. BA MA - Pretentious no? - LOVED Halloween 3: Season of the Witch, their heads exploded with bugs and snakes! AWESOME!) and while I enjoyed the rest of the movies more or less I couldn't see any point moving the series on, aside from the fact that with every new sequel that came out I had another reason to watch the original. For me the first Halloween was beautiful. It was simple, it had only a little bit of blood, and it relied on surprise, atmosphere and music to create the scares (also I have had a long standing crush on Jamie Lee Curtis).
I also am a big fan of Mr. Zombie's work (tee hee... I love saying Mr. Zombie), be it his music, his videos, his movies or just the way he protrays himself. I find the man fascinating. I know everyone has found faults with his other movies (House of 1000 Corpses was a ridiculous rip off of The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Devil's Rejects felt nothing like the first one) but I found their own unique charm (Corpses was what you'd expect from a Zombie music video and Rejects was possibly one of the best serial killer road movies ever made, Natural Born Killers outs it just slightly). He mixes an absurd amount of comedy in with horrible violence, and it is quite wretched the things that happen in his films. Though this comedy he slipped in isn't the goofy things you see in Bmovies, or the self referential "isn't it ironic that we are ripping off these older movies" crap you come across in the mainstream horror films. Mr. Zombie's humor is as harsh and honest as his violence is, and it's sparse. You laugh at the characters and the relationships because they are over heightened to the point of being absurd, you see this in Halloween in the first few minutes with a glimpse into the Myers' residency. What you come across during the first ten to twenty minutes of the film is the most dysfunctional family that ever graced this moderately decent greenish-brown Earth. Growing up in a loving, but often slightly off kiltered household I couldn't help but laugh. Yes it's horrible, but if I remember well from what I've read of Aristotle, comedy, to those crazy Greeks, was all about the horrible and the grotesque. We recognize our faults in the comedic character taken to the extreme and that is what we see in the opening.
The interesting thing this film does is done in the first section of the film. Michael Myers' childhood. I have always been interested in why people act the way they do and this fascination tends to looking towards the extreme polls of the human condition, looking for the motivation behind the acts of the incredibly holy and the incredibly evil. What causes a person to go out and dedicate their life to living in a leper pit tending the sick? Or in Michael Myers' case (and too many real life cases sadly), what causes a person to one night kill their whole family and then kill again and again? This new Halloween attempts to answer some of these questions by showing all the text book signs of a serial killer in the young Michael Myers. The animal cruelty, the abusive parents, the withdrawal from society, the lack of understanding of the consequences of their actions, it's all there. But it obviously does not run in the family as Laurie Strode seems to be pretty normal (possibly due to being raised in a more loving and might I add AWESOME family). Laurie, Michael's youngest sister, was a baby when the murders too place gets placed in this awesome family, they were silly, loving and the complete opposite of the Myers - though Michael's mom was sweet (yay Sheri Moon Zombie!).
Over all I enjoyed the film. I liked the psychology behind it (not too sure how accurate is was, but what little I did know I felt jived pretty well with this film), the pacing was well done and the over all feel was a pleasant mix of the original and of a Rob Zombie film. He kept in key points, cleared up some plot holes and made it more believable, he also tried to make sure there wouldn't be a sequel (though there will be at least three more... please let them remake the third one! I need to see flashing shamrocks on TVs again). The scares sadly don't match up with the original. Mr. Zombie relied a bit too much on disturbing the audience with realistic violence, oh it was well done, don't get me wrong. This was possibly his best use of realistic violence in movies (possibly gearing up for that crime film he wants to do). I'm squeamish when it comes to violence, or seeing people get hurt, or hearing about people's pain. I tend to empathize too much and the backs of my thighs get all tingly (it's weird, I know). The film made me wince repeatedly, but it only scared me to the state of jumping, maybe, three times. You know, though, as far as horror movies go now a days three jumps in one film is quite an accomplishment, then again I felt the need to turn around and explain WHY things were happening in the film to the three teenagers (who probably thought this was an original film) who couldn't stop talking. I also noticed that all the scares that got me were simple scares, quick bits that caught me off guard. the kind of scares I like best, the ones that give me a start and then smile at the rush of adrenaline.
One thing, ONE thing that I, without a doubt loved, LOVED I say, was the music. Mr. Zombie's films have possibly the best soundtracks, his use of songs which run counter to the action on screen is genius (kudos to Mr. Zombie and Tyler Bates for doing this for three movies). I won't give too much away but Blue Oyster Cult's "Don't Fear the Reaper" comes up twice and is awesome. Then there's also the use of John Carpenter's original music. It was used well, it was used correctly and Tyler Bates managed to corrupt the music slightly to give it an edge that was lacking in the original. The original was simple and effective, but to be honest it did sound like it was being played on a Casio keyboard, this new version sounds like the original Casio was used but was sightly out of tune (how a keyboard can be our of tune is beyond me but yeah there it is), it created a nice jarring effect.
This film didn't kill the original at all. It actually can stand next to the original peacefully on the video store rack and not harm the original with either purporting to be better than the first or be an embarrassment to the original intent of the film (like so many of the horror remakes). I know this film isn't for everyone, I actually wouldn't recommend it for everyone to see either, but if you like horror films and you can deal with a bit of the old ultra violence you'd like this I believe. happily it didn't live up to my greatest fear, that it would become one of those hyper torture films. Oh there was some messed up stuff to be sure but it wasn't nauseating like the things you find in Saw or Hostel and the violence didn't take up the main focus of the film. This was not a film about gruesome deaths, it was a film about family (no really... it was), and it was a film about morals (honestly!). In other words it was a horror film true and through.
Post-script or Epilogue to this whole thing:
So the reason this was long in coming (saw the film at the start of September and here it is the end of September I'm writing about it) is because a lot has been going on. Fun things, crummy things, lame things, wonderful things, and mundane things. Things that have taken up much of my time, for better or worse. I'm still going to try to keep this blog going though. Enjoy!
Thursday, August 23
Aisle 1
Aisle 1: Produce Aisle
I've just about made it through my second week of work at my new job. I think right now I've gotten just about everything under control. The one thing that I'm struggling with is the filing system. It seems the person who was my predecessor really disliked organizing things in a manner that suits a library. So because of this I can find nothing I need. Which is causing some stress as I can't really do most of my job without the right paper work and so forth. In two weeks I'm supposedly going to be able to fly solo for my boss is going on vacation and yeah you don't want to hear about this do you? Hell I don't want to write about it.
I'm at a bit of an impasse. I really want to write something tonight, anything really, but I have nothing in my head to write about. I also don't want to go on about my personal life (for there really isn't one at this point). But I need to feel that something is moving in my life and writing seems to be the way to get at that feeling.
So I'm watching TV right? Not just any TV but Fox. I finally watched a full episode of Seinfeld. I think this makes the total of Seinfeld shows I've watch hit an impressive mark of three. I have a hat trick of Seinfeld under my belt. Watching it reminded me why I actively chose not to watch it when it first came on. It's a show about nothing, but done so badly. I understand the premise, a group of friends interacting with New York and all the craziness that resides there. I can see how it comments on our society. Just for the love of god, why do all the characters have to try so damn hard at being awkward and having a show that goes no where? I'm all for circular anti-climatic comedy. I really am. I love theater of the absurd and that's what it's made up of pretty much. But it happens naturally, or better yet it happens organically. Nothing is pushed, even when outlandish things happen. One character might be alarmed with the events but for the most part no one questions why people are turning into Rhinoceroses, they just know it's first wrong and then later the most logical thing to do. Seinfeld is not this. It is a show of complaint. There's this really nasty negative tone to the whole thing. No one is happy. Everyone is only concerned with their own needs and wants. Is this life? Perhaps a lot of you would say yes. But man if that's life then I choose option B.
I remember years ago in my intro to performance class as an undergrad freshmen, where we mainly did improv basics that I really need to be using in my current improv regime, I was chastised for initiating a scene where I was on a couch watching television. Most of what that professor taught me I have kept close to my heart but no not this. Watching television is not a dead activity. It may not be the best choice but it can allow for some great subtle scenes. It's playing boredom. It's playing nothing. It's doing what I believe Seinfeld is trying to do, making nothing seem like something.
Eh I'm not the best at improv, or most comedy for that matter. I'm not horrible just I'm not remarkable either. But there's one thing that I know I'm actually quite good at, well two things really. One is doing subtle comedy, like really subtle comedy and the other is physical comedy. I don't look it. Not at all. I don't act like it either but I am most comfortable when I do physical slapstick like comedy. Making big, BIG movements and pratfalls. Or doing something really small and noticed by only those that are really paying attention. I developed most of this when I was a young boy-o.
Growing up the youngest and the only boy in a family that consisted of mainly women (two sisters, two close cousins, a lot of aunts; I did have male relatives but the women kind of over shadowed them) and having women who were not the normal run of the mill women (I'm talking my family is made up of a bunch of amazon women from the moon) I developed into a rather odd person. One of the things that my family would do was play games like Mother May I or Red Light Green Light. All of these demanded that you make large movements in order to win. When we played wiffle ball we'd use shadow runners, who would end up colliding with me for some reason. I would also spend a decent amount of time amusing myself. Either by watching old movies or by re-enacting the old movies I had just watched. I remember seeing my first episode of Saturday Night Live. It was one of the ones where Chevy Chase was in the cast. For those that don't remember Chase would start the show off. He's the one who would do the "Live from New York it's Saturday Night!" And he would do it while taking a ginormous pratfall. I, being three, thought that was hilarious, so I took my time trying to learn the art of falling down and not getting hurt. Ok I had another reason for learning this too, I was of the mind that one day I would have to jump out of a moving train or car or airplane and wanted to be able to not break my bones in the process of the landing.
My training was hilarious though. I had this black beanbag that was super snazzy. Well as snazzy as beanbags go (ok that's not true it didn't have a lounge singer in it). I would take said beanbag and place it at the top of the stairs. I'd then get in front of the bean bag and rig it to fall towards me. From that point it was Indiana Jones time. The best was when I went head over heals six times in a row and slammed into the front door with a thud, and THEN the bean bag hit me. I would jump off my porch trying to clear the massive, seldom trimmed bushes with a plastic bag held over my head (it was a parachute) and I'd do the whole find a big hill and roll all the way down it, get back up and do it ten more times. My childhood was filled with grass stains, bruises and lots of dizzy spells.
When I was in elementary school I had this friend Kyle. We would hang out after school a lot. He lived in a trailer park and well let me just say this as a tangent. Trailer park kids are fucking awesome! They're like selfdestructing maniacs! One of the things we would do was act as dare devils on our bikes. Keep in mind at this point I was a bit chubby and super awkward (more so then than I am now... shut up you who is mocking me). I couldn't do the whole pop a wheelie thing. I could do a mean bunny hop but that's about it. So to be a dare devil I had to be able to jump off of my bike, and not die. Which I was pretty good at (obviously as I'm alive to talk about this). So lots of jumping into bushes (occasionally pricker bushes), jumping into gravel (which is quite soft at the right angle/speed) and then there was the rope swing. Rope swing. No this didn't involve the bike. It involved the rope swing. A rope tied to a tree branch. Normally you'd swing out and let go then land in some water (frankly this scares me because you can't see if there are rocks or turtles, or little kids or sharks waiting for you) now THIS rope swing was a bit different. You see it was in the middle of the woods. Rather than swing over a pond we swung over a large pit of sticks and shrubs. Then you let go and land on the small, small dirt trail. It was AWESOME! Awesomely dangerous.
So doing all that, and getting beaten up a lot in school meant I was able to deal with a lot of pain. Best thing I ever learned as a kid was to roll with the punches. I watched a lot of fight movies and tried to figure out on my own how to do stage combat. Worked in a couple of actual fights. Again I'm alive and not horribly scarred so that's a plus side to that. It also helped that I have strong bones (thank you milk) and a rather thick skull (Shut it you! I mean come on I know who you are and I know your little snicker). So I'm pretty much made for physical comedy (and why I can take a hit from a bike when crossing the street and not be phased too much - happened last weekend no kidding).
The subtle side of the humor was derived from being the often quiet one in the family. I often was drowned out by my sisters and later in life by my loud mouth friends (HA! That's what you get for laughing at me twice in one post...). So because I'm a quiet one, and because I'm kind of over looked sometimes (my own fault really) I've taken to making subtle one liners, or using my facial expressions to get my feelings across to other people. A raised eyebrow here, a slight of hand there. It's rather fun.
I use to be witty too. My wit has since kind of dampened. I'm not as fast as I use to be, or as smart it seems. Odd how the more learning you get the less your brain seems to work. Case in point that last sentence. That was a lame way to explain the idea I was trying to get across.
Here's something that I have learned though. Little kids think I'm hilarious. Because I can fall down on cue and make it look like they can beat me up. Bad side of this is running into a kid who has the strength to actually beat me up (D's little brother can hurt me, I found that out after he decided he was magical and had the power to make me fall down at certain words.
I need to figure out what I'm producing now. Work ain't giving me anything. Writing, well I'm never writing what I want to, and I'm not all that successful at the comedy thing. But hey, I'm attempting to keep busy. I may end up spending some time in the park over the next few weeks getting back into the swing of the physical comedy thing. Do some tumbles, roll down some hills, have a lark, get some bruises.
There are so many ways to make some one laugh. There are so many types of laughs for that matter. All I want to do is give some one a good laugh, as Aristotle would have it, a virtuous laugh. One that is good for all involved. I want to be able to take the person who had a no good very bad day and make them smile for a few seconds. In those few seconds perhaps they'll forget the crap that's gone on. Perhaps they'll be happy for a bit. If that doesn't work then I guess I'll just be my nice self and try to make them feel better in my own way.
I've just about made it through my second week of work at my new job. I think right now I've gotten just about everything under control. The one thing that I'm struggling with is the filing system. It seems the person who was my predecessor really disliked organizing things in a manner that suits a library. So because of this I can find nothing I need. Which is causing some stress as I can't really do most of my job without the right paper work and so forth. In two weeks I'm supposedly going to be able to fly solo for my boss is going on vacation and yeah you don't want to hear about this do you? Hell I don't want to write about it.
I'm at a bit of an impasse. I really want to write something tonight, anything really, but I have nothing in my head to write about. I also don't want to go on about my personal life (for there really isn't one at this point). But I need to feel that something is moving in my life and writing seems to be the way to get at that feeling.
So I'm watching TV right? Not just any TV but Fox. I finally watched a full episode of Seinfeld. I think this makes the total of Seinfeld shows I've watch hit an impressive mark of three. I have a hat trick of Seinfeld under my belt. Watching it reminded me why I actively chose not to watch it when it first came on. It's a show about nothing, but done so badly. I understand the premise, a group of friends interacting with New York and all the craziness that resides there. I can see how it comments on our society. Just for the love of god, why do all the characters have to try so damn hard at being awkward and having a show that goes no where? I'm all for circular anti-climatic comedy. I really am. I love theater of the absurd and that's what it's made up of pretty much. But it happens naturally, or better yet it happens organically. Nothing is pushed, even when outlandish things happen. One character might be alarmed with the events but for the most part no one questions why people are turning into Rhinoceroses, they just know it's first wrong and then later the most logical thing to do. Seinfeld is not this. It is a show of complaint. There's this really nasty negative tone to the whole thing. No one is happy. Everyone is only concerned with their own needs and wants. Is this life? Perhaps a lot of you would say yes. But man if that's life then I choose option B.
I remember years ago in my intro to performance class as an undergrad freshmen, where we mainly did improv basics that I really need to be using in my current improv regime, I was chastised for initiating a scene where I was on a couch watching television. Most of what that professor taught me I have kept close to my heart but no not this. Watching television is not a dead activity. It may not be the best choice but it can allow for some great subtle scenes. It's playing boredom. It's playing nothing. It's doing what I believe Seinfeld is trying to do, making nothing seem like something.
Eh I'm not the best at improv, or most comedy for that matter. I'm not horrible just I'm not remarkable either. But there's one thing that I know I'm actually quite good at, well two things really. One is doing subtle comedy, like really subtle comedy and the other is physical comedy. I don't look it. Not at all. I don't act like it either but I am most comfortable when I do physical slapstick like comedy. Making big, BIG movements and pratfalls. Or doing something really small and noticed by only those that are really paying attention. I developed most of this when I was a young boy-o.
Growing up the youngest and the only boy in a family that consisted of mainly women (two sisters, two close cousins, a lot of aunts; I did have male relatives but the women kind of over shadowed them) and having women who were not the normal run of the mill women (I'm talking my family is made up of a bunch of amazon women from the moon) I developed into a rather odd person. One of the things that my family would do was play games like Mother May I or Red Light Green Light. All of these demanded that you make large movements in order to win. When we played wiffle ball we'd use shadow runners, who would end up colliding with me for some reason. I would also spend a decent amount of time amusing myself. Either by watching old movies or by re-enacting the old movies I had just watched. I remember seeing my first episode of Saturday Night Live. It was one of the ones where Chevy Chase was in the cast. For those that don't remember Chase would start the show off. He's the one who would do the "Live from New York it's Saturday Night!" And he would do it while taking a ginormous pratfall. I, being three, thought that was hilarious, so I took my time trying to learn the art of falling down and not getting hurt. Ok I had another reason for learning this too, I was of the mind that one day I would have to jump out of a moving train or car or airplane and wanted to be able to not break my bones in the process of the landing.
My training was hilarious though. I had this black beanbag that was super snazzy. Well as snazzy as beanbags go (ok that's not true it didn't have a lounge singer in it). I would take said beanbag and place it at the top of the stairs. I'd then get in front of the bean bag and rig it to fall towards me. From that point it was Indiana Jones time. The best was when I went head over heals six times in a row and slammed into the front door with a thud, and THEN the bean bag hit me. I would jump off my porch trying to clear the massive, seldom trimmed bushes with a plastic bag held over my head (it was a parachute) and I'd do the whole find a big hill and roll all the way down it, get back up and do it ten more times. My childhood was filled with grass stains, bruises and lots of dizzy spells.
When I was in elementary school I had this friend Kyle. We would hang out after school a lot. He lived in a trailer park and well let me just say this as a tangent. Trailer park kids are fucking awesome! They're like selfdestructing maniacs! One of the things we would do was act as dare devils on our bikes. Keep in mind at this point I was a bit chubby and super awkward (more so then than I am now... shut up you who is mocking me). I couldn't do the whole pop a wheelie thing. I could do a mean bunny hop but that's about it. So to be a dare devil I had to be able to jump off of my bike, and not die. Which I was pretty good at (obviously as I'm alive to talk about this). So lots of jumping into bushes (occasionally pricker bushes), jumping into gravel (which is quite soft at the right angle/speed) and then there was the rope swing. Rope swing. No this didn't involve the bike. It involved the rope swing. A rope tied to a tree branch. Normally you'd swing out and let go then land in some water (frankly this scares me because you can't see if there are rocks or turtles, or little kids or sharks waiting for you) now THIS rope swing was a bit different. You see it was in the middle of the woods. Rather than swing over a pond we swung over a large pit of sticks and shrubs. Then you let go and land on the small, small dirt trail. It was AWESOME! Awesomely dangerous.
So doing all that, and getting beaten up a lot in school meant I was able to deal with a lot of pain. Best thing I ever learned as a kid was to roll with the punches. I watched a lot of fight movies and tried to figure out on my own how to do stage combat. Worked in a couple of actual fights. Again I'm alive and not horribly scarred so that's a plus side to that. It also helped that I have strong bones (thank you milk) and a rather thick skull (Shut it you! I mean come on I know who you are and I know your little snicker). So I'm pretty much made for physical comedy (and why I can take a hit from a bike when crossing the street and not be phased too much - happened last weekend no kidding).
The subtle side of the humor was derived from being the often quiet one in the family. I often was drowned out by my sisters and later in life by my loud mouth friends (HA! That's what you get for laughing at me twice in one post...). So because I'm a quiet one, and because I'm kind of over looked sometimes (my own fault really) I've taken to making subtle one liners, or using my facial expressions to get my feelings across to other people. A raised eyebrow here, a slight of hand there. It's rather fun.
I use to be witty too. My wit has since kind of dampened. I'm not as fast as I use to be, or as smart it seems. Odd how the more learning you get the less your brain seems to work. Case in point that last sentence. That was a lame way to explain the idea I was trying to get across.
Here's something that I have learned though. Little kids think I'm hilarious. Because I can fall down on cue and make it look like they can beat me up. Bad side of this is running into a kid who has the strength to actually beat me up (D's little brother can hurt me, I found that out after he decided he was magical and had the power to make me fall down at certain words.
I need to figure out what I'm producing now. Work ain't giving me anything. Writing, well I'm never writing what I want to, and I'm not all that successful at the comedy thing. But hey, I'm attempting to keep busy. I may end up spending some time in the park over the next few weeks getting back into the swing of the physical comedy thing. Do some tumbles, roll down some hills, have a lark, get some bruises.
There are so many ways to make some one laugh. There are so many types of laughs for that matter. All I want to do is give some one a good laugh, as Aristotle would have it, a virtuous laugh. One that is good for all involved. I want to be able to take the person who had a no good very bad day and make them smile for a few seconds. In those few seconds perhaps they'll forget the crap that's gone on. Perhaps they'll be happy for a bit. If that doesn't work then I guess I'll just be my nice self and try to make them feel better in my own way.
Friday, August 17
Aisle 20
Aisle 20: Home Goods
I have had a variety of roommates. I've lived with a guy who was mysteriously whisked away to a mental institute after having threatened to kill one of my friends (and the girl he was macking with), who poured Bush Light beer into my Pepsi Twist (a more heinous concoction has yet to be found, I mean you are talking about the worst beer mixed with the worst soda, next to Moxie). I once shared a room with a 400 lbs pot head who was not all up on hygiene and would hack up the most horrible phlegm in the world every morning at his desk, which was right next to my bed (oh and naked 400 lbs guys who don't take care of themselves, not a pretty sight in the nude, oh I hated mornings, I never knew what I was going to wake up to). I lived with a man who thought the shower was the perfect place to drink wine and have a sandwich and tended to leave some of both in the tub (I slipped on a freakin' piece of bread). I even lived with a hot girl who would wander around in her underwear all the time (and belch like a champ! Ok that wasn't so bad). I've lived with dorks, jocks, video game obsessed kids, musicians, artists, actors, emo kids, slackers, psychos, chicks, and Alec.
I've actually enjoyed the majority of my past roommates. Ok so those first three I mentioned were the crap ones (OH! There was also this star basketball player I roomed with before I moved off campus, he was a dick, and I think the school wanted me to do his home work). Naked girl was awesome (clothed or otherwise) and not for obvious reasons. Honestly it got so old so fast, and we pretty much became pseudo siblings until we drifted apart this past few years. Alec was by far one of my favorite roommates, and the one with the most decorating sense (our dorm was a swinging bachelor pad... only sans chickybabes).
Currently I like my roommates I share my apartment with at this moment. I hardly see two of them and we don't really click all that well but they're good people and put up with me. The third, well the current third (we tend to have a rotating room, that for a while was occupied by France for a long time), takes the cake by far. Great guy, from Argentina, is currently doing an internship at a hospital ER, and is just so like able. Sadly he's back off to Argentina with his girlfriend soon, but at least we've become friends. Hell he talked me out of doing something really stupid recently and gave me some advice that ran counter to what I've heard from other people (does this make it the right advice? Eh, it's what I wanted to hear, so... yes!). (Long story short, my hair has yet to be mangled by my own hands) Tonight he was excited as he just got his harmonica and harmonica holder thing (a la blues guitar/harmonica man) and was playing me some songs.
All this got my thinking about roommates and living situations. I have realized that I have yet to actually live on my own, which has been a dream of mine since I was five. For those not in the know I have two older sisters, who are wonderful, just um... they were older siblings. My childhood was weird and at age five I so would have enjoyed a vacation from the loving teasing of my siblings... and whole family actually, though I wouldn't trade it away now, too many good stories. Before I moved out of my Mom's house I would daydream that I had a small little apartment, nothing special, most of the time it was a rat hole (I aim low and hope for the best sometimes). But for the six years I've been on my own (wow... it feels longer than that) I haven't really been on my own. I've always lived with at least one other person. Oddly enough this current set up sometimes feels like I live alone. Possibly the best thing about having roommates that spend all their time at their girlfriends or at work, or school. But it's still not the ideal thing. It's been ages since I've felt settled down (eleventh grade was the end of the settled feeling I think). I think what I really want is to move into some where and actually set things up like I want them. Get the furniture I want. Put up the crappy art I like. Move my books, music, and movies out of my bedroom finally.
A lot of my friends are moving all over the place, most are moving to cheaper lands in New York, and I've been moving most of them. Saturday, in fact, I get to help another friend, though I am heading off early in order to catch a thing at exactly 4:00 pm. I kind of envy them. I mean moving is a great way to start over from scratch, it's annoying but in the end it feels worth it (unless you move into a horrible place and then move instantly back to your old place, such was the case of the last friends I moved). I don't know though. I somehow have a bit of gypsy in me as I just can't stand being tied down to one location for more than a few years. Earlier this week I sat down with one of the personnel people at my new job and was getting my benefits explained to me (like the fact that I have a pension), and most of it doesn't really come into play until I reach the five year marker. Now I don't hate this job, yet (it's early). But five years at the same place scares me. Not only that but five years in the same position? I could do with teaching as a professor for an extended time because at least I could change up my lesson plans whenever I felt like it. Plus I think I would enjoy having an occasional sabbatical, taking a year off to run around doing research for that book I want to write. Of course the research would totally have to be done in another country for part of the year. Maybe a couple of different countries.
I have wander lust. But it's an odd wander lust as part of me, a strong part of me, does want to eventually settle down. Get a house, do all that fun stuff. So while I want to head off, I also don't want to leave. In the end I make tiny moves here and there. Maybe in a year I'll be living in a different part of Brooklyn for example, but I'd partly wish to move out to, say, Chicago.
I also have that old saying my mom beat into me when I was determined to be an actor, "Don't get married." It's odd, as I've gotten older I've found that both my parents (who have been for a long long time, quite divorced) advise against my marrying (unless it is for dual citizenship for a cool country, which I almost did... I could have actually been Canadian). I've been told that I'm doing great as I have no strings to hold me down (like Pinocchio), and that if I wanted to I could very well just pick up and move some where else. Of course one would tend to require some money to do this, but hey that's just a detail. I think one of the reasons that I've gotten all this, "At least you're not married" jive is because for a while there was that very likely threat that I was going to. And honestly, no offense to the girl in question, that would have been pretty bad. For the both of us, it would have been bad.
Ok now I'm not writing all these things because I've been contemplating grand ideas to settle down with anyone. I'm in no mood to settle for anything, it's just that a lot of people have been asking me about where I saw myself in the future. Will I stay with the job I have, will I get a MLS or a PhD, will I get up the courage to ask out the girl with the pretty eyes, will I stay in my apartment? You know what? Honestly, I don't know the answer to any of those questions (ok well I do know I'm staying at my apartment for as long as I can, it is quite awesome, and near Coney Island too!). A few weeks ago I decided to just take things as they came. Not to expect anything too lofty, just enjoy how life is going for the moment. The next few weeks are going to be rough until I get paid, but I'll some how get through it. It is what I do, I have a really rough and rocky patch and then things get better until they get worse. Eventually, no matter how things are, the rough patches give way to nice stretches.
One day I'll have a home of my own. One day I'll feel like I truly am settled. Right now though? Things aren't bad and I'm pretty content with how everything is working out. Oh things could be better, they always could, but I have my moments. I also have some kick ass people in my life. As I totally doubt many people actually accidentally stumble across this blog, rather, those that read this some how know me, I'm going to say that you, oh reader, are one of those kick ass people I'm glad to know. So here's to you! Cheers! Oh and if you actually don't know me then... man... sorry you had to read all that. But hey how are you? We should one day go for a drink together and you can yell at me for going on and on for no apparent reason. And I can drink. And laugh, for that would be a fun day.
I have had a variety of roommates. I've lived with a guy who was mysteriously whisked away to a mental institute after having threatened to kill one of my friends (and the girl he was macking with), who poured Bush Light beer into my Pepsi Twist (a more heinous concoction has yet to be found, I mean you are talking about the worst beer mixed with the worst soda, next to Moxie). I once shared a room with a 400 lbs pot head who was not all up on hygiene and would hack up the most horrible phlegm in the world every morning at his desk, which was right next to my bed (oh and naked 400 lbs guys who don't take care of themselves, not a pretty sight in the nude, oh I hated mornings, I never knew what I was going to wake up to). I lived with a man who thought the shower was the perfect place to drink wine and have a sandwich and tended to leave some of both in the tub (I slipped on a freakin' piece of bread). I even lived with a hot girl who would wander around in her underwear all the time (and belch like a champ! Ok that wasn't so bad). I've lived with dorks, jocks, video game obsessed kids, musicians, artists, actors, emo kids, slackers, psychos, chicks, and Alec.
I've actually enjoyed the majority of my past roommates. Ok so those first three I mentioned were the crap ones (OH! There was also this star basketball player I roomed with before I moved off campus, he was a dick, and I think the school wanted me to do his home work). Naked girl was awesome (clothed or otherwise) and not for obvious reasons. Honestly it got so old so fast, and we pretty much became pseudo siblings until we drifted apart this past few years. Alec was by far one of my favorite roommates, and the one with the most decorating sense (our dorm was a swinging bachelor pad... only sans chickybabes).
Currently I like my roommates I share my apartment with at this moment. I hardly see two of them and we don't really click all that well but they're good people and put up with me. The third, well the current third (we tend to have a rotating room, that for a while was occupied by France for a long time), takes the cake by far. Great guy, from Argentina, is currently doing an internship at a hospital ER, and is just so like able. Sadly he's back off to Argentina with his girlfriend soon, but at least we've become friends. Hell he talked me out of doing something really stupid recently and gave me some advice that ran counter to what I've heard from other people (does this make it the right advice? Eh, it's what I wanted to hear, so... yes!). (Long story short, my hair has yet to be mangled by my own hands) Tonight he was excited as he just got his harmonica and harmonica holder thing (a la blues guitar/harmonica man) and was playing me some songs.
All this got my thinking about roommates and living situations. I have realized that I have yet to actually live on my own, which has been a dream of mine since I was five. For those not in the know I have two older sisters, who are wonderful, just um... they were older siblings. My childhood was weird and at age five I so would have enjoyed a vacation from the loving teasing of my siblings... and whole family actually, though I wouldn't trade it away now, too many good stories. Before I moved out of my Mom's house I would daydream that I had a small little apartment, nothing special, most of the time it was a rat hole (I aim low and hope for the best sometimes). But for the six years I've been on my own (wow... it feels longer than that) I haven't really been on my own. I've always lived with at least one other person. Oddly enough this current set up sometimes feels like I live alone. Possibly the best thing about having roommates that spend all their time at their girlfriends or at work, or school. But it's still not the ideal thing. It's been ages since I've felt settled down (eleventh grade was the end of the settled feeling I think). I think what I really want is to move into some where and actually set things up like I want them. Get the furniture I want. Put up the crappy art I like. Move my books, music, and movies out of my bedroom finally.
A lot of my friends are moving all over the place, most are moving to cheaper lands in New York, and I've been moving most of them. Saturday, in fact, I get to help another friend, though I am heading off early in order to catch a thing at exactly 4:00 pm. I kind of envy them. I mean moving is a great way to start over from scratch, it's annoying but in the end it feels worth it (unless you move into a horrible place and then move instantly back to your old place, such was the case of the last friends I moved). I don't know though. I somehow have a bit of gypsy in me as I just can't stand being tied down to one location for more than a few years. Earlier this week I sat down with one of the personnel people at my new job and was getting my benefits explained to me (like the fact that I have a pension), and most of it doesn't really come into play until I reach the five year marker. Now I don't hate this job, yet (it's early). But five years at the same place scares me. Not only that but five years in the same position? I could do with teaching as a professor for an extended time because at least I could change up my lesson plans whenever I felt like it. Plus I think I would enjoy having an occasional sabbatical, taking a year off to run around doing research for that book I want to write. Of course the research would totally have to be done in another country for part of the year. Maybe a couple of different countries.
I have wander lust. But it's an odd wander lust as part of me, a strong part of me, does want to eventually settle down. Get a house, do all that fun stuff. So while I want to head off, I also don't want to leave. In the end I make tiny moves here and there. Maybe in a year I'll be living in a different part of Brooklyn for example, but I'd partly wish to move out to, say, Chicago.
I also have that old saying my mom beat into me when I was determined to be an actor, "Don't get married." It's odd, as I've gotten older I've found that both my parents (who have been for a long long time, quite divorced) advise against my marrying (unless it is for dual citizenship for a cool country, which I almost did... I could have actually been Canadian). I've been told that I'm doing great as I have no strings to hold me down (like Pinocchio), and that if I wanted to I could very well just pick up and move some where else. Of course one would tend to require some money to do this, but hey that's just a detail. I think one of the reasons that I've gotten all this, "At least you're not married" jive is because for a while there was that very likely threat that I was going to. And honestly, no offense to the girl in question, that would have been pretty bad. For the both of us, it would have been bad.
Ok now I'm not writing all these things because I've been contemplating grand ideas to settle down with anyone. I'm in no mood to settle for anything, it's just that a lot of people have been asking me about where I saw myself in the future. Will I stay with the job I have, will I get a MLS or a PhD, will I get up the courage to ask out the girl with the pretty eyes, will I stay in my apartment? You know what? Honestly, I don't know the answer to any of those questions (ok well I do know I'm staying at my apartment for as long as I can, it is quite awesome, and near Coney Island too!). A few weeks ago I decided to just take things as they came. Not to expect anything too lofty, just enjoy how life is going for the moment. The next few weeks are going to be rough until I get paid, but I'll some how get through it. It is what I do, I have a really rough and rocky patch and then things get better until they get worse. Eventually, no matter how things are, the rough patches give way to nice stretches.
One day I'll have a home of my own. One day I'll feel like I truly am settled. Right now though? Things aren't bad and I'm pretty content with how everything is working out. Oh things could be better, they always could, but I have my moments. I also have some kick ass people in my life. As I totally doubt many people actually accidentally stumble across this blog, rather, those that read this some how know me, I'm going to say that you, oh reader, are one of those kick ass people I'm glad to know. So here's to you! Cheers! Oh and if you actually don't know me then... man... sorry you had to read all that. But hey how are you? We should one day go for a drink together and you can yell at me for going on and on for no apparent reason. And I can drink. And laugh, for that would be a fun day.
Wednesday, August 15
Aisle 15
Aisle 15: The Lost Aisle of the Abdura Islands
Day 14: By all that is holy I scarcely believe what I am about to set forth in this journal. The events of last night will forever be ingrained in my mind.
For the past week we, the survivors, have heard unsettling noises coming from a distance in the jungle. We all assumed it was some nocturnal beast moving about, and as it never came close to the edge of the jungle, where we have taken up camp we gave the unknown creature little of our attention. There was, up until last night, no reason for any of us to believe that the beast in the jungle was dangerous for every day scouting parties have set out to get the lay of the land and none have ever come back to report any dangerous beast or any signs of violence. Again, I say that is until last night.
As I have mentioned before, Miss Weathersbea's night terrors have increased with each passing night, though she had since stopped ranting about her visions as the good doctor had convinced her that it was just a trick of the mind caused by stress. We had all, by this point, gotten use to the screaming of Miss Weathersbea, this I fear was our undoing. It happened roughly three hours after we had all retired for the evening. I had just closed my eyes and had successfully begun my decent into slumber when I was started by Miss Weathersbea's shrieks of fear, but as I said, since we all have dealt with this since a few days after landing on this island I, nor any one else, bothered to go out and see if everything was as it should be. It wasn't until I heard the twins scream that I took notice. Grabbing my service revolver I rushed out into the night only to be confronted with a sight I shall ever be haunted by.
There right before me in the dim light of the waining moon I saw a large, monsterous figure thrashing its way through the camp. It was like no man nor beast I had ever seen before. In form it resembled a large oxen. But there seemed to be tendrils coming from its body. Tendrils that had the two Hanson twins in their grasp. Several men tried to rush the beast only to be knocked asunder by one of the hefty tendrils. Doctor Kayleb rushed towards me and pulled me out of the way as the beast lashed out in my direction. Up until that moment I was oddly entranced by the behemoth. I can't say what caused it but, I seem to recall with a shudder that while my eyes were locked on the beast I felt a sense of calm. What could have caused such a queer feeling at a time like that is beyond my understanding. Perhaps it was similar to the shock that Doctor Kayleb claimed to be the cause of Miss. Weathersbea's night terrors or Jacob's mad dash into the sea. Regardless it took but one shake from the Doctor for my senses to return to me.
I attempted to open fire at the beast, but though I am certain I had hit the thing spot on I could not seem to see any affect. Quickly I had the Doctor and several other men who were not rendered incapacitated by the beast all ready run to the fire pit and bring torches. If bullets could not harm the beast, perhaps fire would at least cause it to depart.
With luck the fire seemed to drive the beast off. But we only managed to save one of the twins, Harris. His brother Henry is now lost to us. Taken by that monster.
We are now discussing plans for building fortifications against a future attack and every scouting party is now charged with keeping a look out for possible hiding places for this creature.
I must rest now, as the supplies we landed here have been growing thinner and to help the rest I have been only partaking in half of my desired rations. I am becoming weak and that strange feeling of calm has been creeping into my head all day. I fear for what tonight might bring.
Day 14: By all that is holy I scarcely believe what I am about to set forth in this journal. The events of last night will forever be ingrained in my mind.
For the past week we, the survivors, have heard unsettling noises coming from a distance in the jungle. We all assumed it was some nocturnal beast moving about, and as it never came close to the edge of the jungle, where we have taken up camp we gave the unknown creature little of our attention. There was, up until last night, no reason for any of us to believe that the beast in the jungle was dangerous for every day scouting parties have set out to get the lay of the land and none have ever come back to report any dangerous beast or any signs of violence. Again, I say that is until last night.
As I have mentioned before, Miss Weathersbea's night terrors have increased with each passing night, though she had since stopped ranting about her visions as the good doctor had convinced her that it was just a trick of the mind caused by stress. We had all, by this point, gotten use to the screaming of Miss Weathersbea, this I fear was our undoing. It happened roughly three hours after we had all retired for the evening. I had just closed my eyes and had successfully begun my decent into slumber when I was started by Miss Weathersbea's shrieks of fear, but as I said, since we all have dealt with this since a few days after landing on this island I, nor any one else, bothered to go out and see if everything was as it should be. It wasn't until I heard the twins scream that I took notice. Grabbing my service revolver I rushed out into the night only to be confronted with a sight I shall ever be haunted by.
There right before me in the dim light of the waining moon I saw a large, monsterous figure thrashing its way through the camp. It was like no man nor beast I had ever seen before. In form it resembled a large oxen. But there seemed to be tendrils coming from its body. Tendrils that had the two Hanson twins in their grasp. Several men tried to rush the beast only to be knocked asunder by one of the hefty tendrils. Doctor Kayleb rushed towards me and pulled me out of the way as the beast lashed out in my direction. Up until that moment I was oddly entranced by the behemoth. I can't say what caused it but, I seem to recall with a shudder that while my eyes were locked on the beast I felt a sense of calm. What could have caused such a queer feeling at a time like that is beyond my understanding. Perhaps it was similar to the shock that Doctor Kayleb claimed to be the cause of Miss. Weathersbea's night terrors or Jacob's mad dash into the sea. Regardless it took but one shake from the Doctor for my senses to return to me.
I attempted to open fire at the beast, but though I am certain I had hit the thing spot on I could not seem to see any affect. Quickly I had the Doctor and several other men who were not rendered incapacitated by the beast all ready run to the fire pit and bring torches. If bullets could not harm the beast, perhaps fire would at least cause it to depart.
With luck the fire seemed to drive the beast off. But we only managed to save one of the twins, Harris. His brother Henry is now lost to us. Taken by that monster.
We are now discussing plans for building fortifications against a future attack and every scouting party is now charged with keeping a look out for possible hiding places for this creature.
I must rest now, as the supplies we landed here have been growing thinner and to help the rest I have been only partaking in half of my desired rations. I am becoming weak and that strange feeling of calm has been creeping into my head all day. I fear for what tonight might bring.
Tuesday, August 14
Aisle 19
Aisle 19: Seasonal Aisle
Well it certainly has been an interesting past few days for me. Got kind of scammed at a bar that I rather don't enjoy in the first place by crazy chick that was looking for a meal ticket (little did she know I am so not a meal ticket, I'm more of like a snack pack at best); saw an interesting band at Coney Island (more on that in a bit); watched a delightful romp into 60's beach and monster land (some on that in another bit); had my first practice with a new improv group; and have started to commit more ukulele songs to heart. All things summery so far. I've also miss used semi-colons like there's no tomorrow in that last sentence, proving that summer is still very much alive and I refuse to use any of my education in constructing a late night post.
Alright, let us jump into the band I saw. Witches in Bikinis. Possibly one of the more amusing bands I've had the good fortune to accidentally run into. Here's the run down of the act. WiB is more of a theatrical production than an actual band. Being so it is border line cabaret dancing girls act. However the delightfully fiendish twist to all of this is that the bikini clad women with matching wigs sing of vampires, zombies, and alien surfer babes. It is almost like they tapped into my adolescent mind and brought about one of my wildest fantasies (I was an odd teenager). Now before you start to mock me let me just tell you the level of cool this was. They were performing outside in front of the Wonder Wheel, where the crowd was consisted of not just hopeless dorks like myself, but kids and families of all sorts. Little children dancing around to songs that included a letter to Dr. Frankenstein pleading him to put together a recently deceased boyfriend (died in a car crash of 
course), a love song about how the girl is won over with a trip to the cemetery and presents of animal skulls, and of course a song about coming face to face with witches who happen to wear bikinis ("roasting human wienies and stuffing them in crepes"). To top it off they came dangerously close to making a CHUD reference, which in my book just clinches the deal.
After enjoying a spirited round of crazy sounds I did the next perfectly acceptable thing, went to the Coney Island Museum for the latest movie showing, which coincidentally was The Beach Girls and the Monster with a short independent feature called The Coney Island Killer Craw Fish. Both odd, odd films. I feel they really got away with the "The monster looks like a man in a rubber suit" in both films. I mean that's just what it was, a man in a rubber suit killing bikini clad women, and questionable guys. High lights of the Beach Girls included the most climactic yet unresolved ending (car crash, car almost crashes, oh look a car crash, guess he's dead, BOOM THE END), an odd random puppet routine, spotting of Fidel Castro (he likes the late night beach parties it seems), anti-beard movement at its finest (why no beard love? Why?), and of course excessive crotch shots of women in bikinis dancing on the beach. Could a better film be made involving monsters, death and bikinis? Some might say yes (Psycho Beach Party or Horror at Monster Beach) but this one, man. Science proves to be evil, if not in deed than in not being accepting for the cool cats on the beach.
On the way home from the show I had my ukulele with me. I originally planned on hitting the beach after the show and kind of jamming out under the moon, but as I had no jamming partners I figured I'd cut my losses and head back to the homestead. But I was not going to just sit passively on the subway, oh no. Instead I decided to play what few songs I knew by heart on my little uke and purge myself of beach bumness. Thing was I quickly realized I only knew so many songs by heart. So the semi-longer than I'd like it to be trip home comprised of me playing Mad World, Creep (yes I can play Radio Head on a ukulele, it's actually quite happy sounding), Not if You Were the Last Junkie on Earth, and the Magnetic Fields' I Don't Love You Anymore. Now tell me... are any of those happy songs? No. Yet they all sound happy for some reason. I decided, when I got home, that I needed to learn some more songs, some that weren't so... upsetting. I think I've managed to accrue a larger list of songs, some happy, some not, some just odd. If you want to see the whole list I'm working on learning here it is. I so far have about a quarter of those down and have to say that the Violent Femmes were made for the ukulele. Soon I may play some for people... I still am crap at singing whilst playing but hey, I can only get better.
As for the improv group, I'm technically involved with two practice groups, one meeting on Sundays and the other on Mondays. However the Monday one I have yet to go to as all the practices have been canceled for the past two weeks. The Sunday group was fun. Played with people far more advanced than me. Realized I'm a lot better with physicality and non-speaking scenes than in scenes where I have to talk (which normally is pretty much every scene in improv land). I feel this should be taken as a sign that I should just bite the bullet and start making short silent pieces to perform places. I do have a great idea for a clown dance love story. Yes, clowns. I know I hate them. I realize this. But there's something about them that I can work with. Eh. Who knows.
Ok so finally, I mentioned in the last post about going to see my friend Margaret's gig at Pianos and Monas.
Well I did, got some interesting shots at Pianos, and had a great time. So again I highly suggest people check out Monas on Tuesdays (11pm til close located on Ave. B near 14th St.). To see some of the shots go check out here. For more Witches in Bikinis click here and while your on the flickr account feel free to check out all the other crappy photos I've done. Cause I like taking photos.
So yeah. That was my weekend. Tomorrow I start work at a new joby job. Still have to deal with some personal stuff that's fun and weird. But then that's life ain't it?
Ok buckaroos, keep things in ship shape until whenever I get the urge to ramble on late at night about something.
Cheers
Well it certainly has been an interesting past few days for me. Got kind of scammed at a bar that I rather don't enjoy in the first place by crazy chick that was looking for a meal ticket (little did she know I am so not a meal ticket, I'm more of like a snack pack at best); saw an interesting band at Coney Island (more on that in a bit); watched a delightful romp into 60's beach and monster land (some on that in another bit); had my first practice with a new improv group; and have started to commit more ukulele songs to heart. All things summery so far. I've also miss used semi-colons like there's no tomorrow in that last sentence, proving that summer is still very much alive and I refuse to use any of my education in constructing a late night post.
Alright, let us jump into the band I saw. Witches in Bikinis. Possibly one of the more amusing bands I've had the good fortune to accidentally run into. Here's the run down of the act. WiB is more of a theatrical production than an actual band. Being so it is border line cabaret dancing girls act. However the delightfully fiendish twist to all of this is that the bikini clad women with matching wigs sing of vampires, zombies, and alien surfer babes. It is almost like they tapped into my adolescent mind and brought about one of my wildest fantasies (I was an odd teenager). Now before you start to mock me let me just tell you the level of cool this was. They were performing outside in front of the Wonder Wheel, where the crowd was consisted of not just hopeless dorks like myself, but kids and families of all sorts. Little children dancing around to songs that included a letter to Dr. Frankenstein pleading him to put together a recently deceased boyfriend (died in a car crash of 
course), a love song about how the girl is won over with a trip to the cemetery and presents of animal skulls, and of course a song about coming face to face with witches who happen to wear bikinis ("roasting human wienies and stuffing them in crepes"). To top it off they came dangerously close to making a CHUD reference, which in my book just clinches the deal.After enjoying a spirited round of crazy sounds I did the next perfectly acceptable thing, went to the Coney Island Museum for the latest movie showing, which coincidentally was The Beach Girls and the Monster with a short independent feature called The Coney Island Killer Craw Fish. Both odd, odd films. I feel they really got away with the "The monster looks like a man in a rubber suit" in both films. I mean that's just what it was, a man in a rubber suit killing bikini clad women, and questionable guys. High lights of the Beach Girls included the most climactic yet unresolved ending (car crash, car almost crashes, oh look a car crash, guess he's dead, BOOM THE END), an odd random puppet routine, spotting of Fidel Castro (he likes the late night beach parties it seems), anti-beard movement at its finest (why no beard love? Why?), and of course excessive crotch shots of women in bikinis dancing on the beach. Could a better film be made involving monsters, death and bikinis? Some might say yes (Psycho Beach Party or Horror at Monster Beach) but this one, man. Science proves to be evil, if not in deed than in not being accepting for the cool cats on the beach.
On the way home from the show I had my ukulele with me. I originally planned on hitting the beach after the show and kind of jamming out under the moon, but as I had no jamming partners I figured I'd cut my losses and head back to the homestead. But I was not going to just sit passively on the subway, oh no. Instead I decided to play what few songs I knew by heart on my little uke and purge myself of beach bumness. Thing was I quickly realized I only knew so many songs by heart. So the semi-longer than I'd like it to be trip home comprised of me playing Mad World, Creep (yes I can play Radio Head on a ukulele, it's actually quite happy sounding), Not if You Were the Last Junkie on Earth, and the Magnetic Fields' I Don't Love You Anymore. Now tell me... are any of those happy songs? No. Yet they all sound happy for some reason. I decided, when I got home, that I needed to learn some more songs, some that weren't so... upsetting. I think I've managed to accrue a larger list of songs, some happy, some not, some just odd. If you want to see the whole list I'm working on learning here it is. I so far have about a quarter of those down and have to say that the Violent Femmes were made for the ukulele. Soon I may play some for people... I still am crap at singing whilst playing but hey, I can only get better.
As for the improv group, I'm technically involved with two practice groups, one meeting on Sundays and the other on Mondays. However the Monday one I have yet to go to as all the practices have been canceled for the past two weeks. The Sunday group was fun. Played with people far more advanced than me. Realized I'm a lot better with physicality and non-speaking scenes than in scenes where I have to talk (which normally is pretty much every scene in improv land). I feel this should be taken as a sign that I should just bite the bullet and start making short silent pieces to perform places. I do have a great idea for a clown dance love story. Yes, clowns. I know I hate them. I realize this. But there's something about them that I can work with. Eh. Who knows.
Ok so finally, I mentioned in the last post about going to see my friend Margaret's gig at Pianos and Monas.
Well I did, got some interesting shots at Pianos, and had a great time. So again I highly suggest people check out Monas on Tuesdays (11pm til close located on Ave. B near 14th St.). To see some of the shots go check out here. For more Witches in Bikinis click here and while your on the flickr account feel free to check out all the other crappy photos I've done. Cause I like taking photos.So yeah. That was my weekend. Tomorrow I start work at a new joby job. Still have to deal with some personal stuff that's fun and weird. But then that's life ain't it?
Ok buckaroos, keep things in ship shape until whenever I get the urge to ramble on late at night about something.
Cheers
Tuesday, August 7
Aisle 27
Aisle 27: The Best Seller/Stationary Aisle
So in the last posting I mentioned being kind of close to becoming Meursault from Camus' The Stranger or at least a bit worried that that was the direction I was heading towards. Well I decided to reread The Stranger, I decided this today actually and am pretty far along, surprisingly. There was one line that stood out though, "When I was a student, I had lots of ambitions like that [move to Paris and travel the world]. But when I had to give up my studies I learned very quickly that none of it really mattered" (pg 41 of the Vintage International edition). I would say that aptly explains how I've been feeling these past few months. All ambition lost. But then today, after reading that I kind of slapped myself in the face. I mean look at all my friends who've been long since out of school. Stace has just started a new design company with her boyfriend (check it out www.triplefrog.com give them jobs to do!!). I have a friend who's producing a show that sounds super nifty (more on that once the days get closer).Who the hell did I think I was those past few months? I've never been one who has clung to academia, I never really took it all that seriously as I felt that some of those I worked with tended to read a bit too much into things and took all the fun out of life (like going to a freak show. Dude, side shows, though they may be problematic, are a riot, and not for the reasons we spent discussing in that windowless room). Oh that's a notion, the fact that the room I had most of my classes was devoid of any window, shut off from reality as it were. This is actually why I kind of want to get a PhD and write more, I want to bring a fresh eye that's not clogged with the appropriate jargon one needs to provide in order to pass oneself off as an academic. I think that was the thing that bothered me the most. People would always use these grandiose terms to make their ideas seem more interesting. Where as I tried my darndest to do the opposite, make my ideas seem interesting but using a lexicon that did not use the word lexicon. I think this is partially why people enjoyed my presentations and papers, because I would break down the intricacies and not depend on using too many ten cent words (for I was surviving on loans and needed as many dimes as possible).
Eh enough of that rant. So I just finished Orwell's Animal Farm, man, if only Snowball wasn't run off the farm by Napoleon maybe the whole farm would have prospered differently. Then again maybe not. I guess the pigs would still be in charge and calling the shots and would eventually get drunk on the power they had over the rest of the animals. Damn socialist live stock. I forgot how dark and violent the book was. I remember the whole situation with Boxer and the knackers but completely forgot about the supposed conspirators and the public executions. Why would the animals just throw themselves to the dogs? I wonder if there were secret detainee areas of the farm where the "conspirators" were tortured into believing their charges.
I'm refraining from making any grand claims right now as I'm slowly getting back into the proactive writing phase of my life. I figure I need to write a few more of these self reflexive posts and then things will smooth out a bit more and fun posts will pop up... or something will happen.
Currently I am trying to figure out what my next move is (as always it seems). Ok so the job should be coming next week and I'll have that to ease off the pain of every thing (oh yeah got a job, it's pretty darn cool actually). I've also become entwined in two improv practice groups, only thing is one I keep on missing due to misfortune and another I showed up and no one else was there. It seems the fates are against me for the moment. But I will be taking a new class soon that will actually give me a short three week run of shows, and I'm planing on trying to actually get as much stage time as possible. I also still have plans (very loose ones) with a few people about starting a theater collective. If this does happen I'll be happy, but the only way for it to happen is for me to get off my ass and get everyone else to follow suit, and lord knows I'm a reluctant leader. Oh it's not because I dislike leading, it is simply because I don't like to take full credit for things and don't want to feel like I'm keeping people from doing what they really want.
So real quick list of the projects for this fall:
More improv stage time
Start theater collective
Get a few papers published
Get at least three photos into a show
Go on more dates
Will I do all of this? Who knows? It'll be fun to find out though.
Oh and before I forget, this is partially last minute BUT it also is partially an on-going thing and has nothing to do with me. Tomorrow at 7 pm my friend Margaret will be singing with an excellent jazz band at Pianos on Ludlow and Stanton this will be a one night thing, but from 10pm till god knows when every Tuesday she also sings at a bar called Mona's on Avenue B at 14th street. Check it out if you are in the area, say hi. I may be there, I may not, regardless she's an excellent singer and the band that plays at Mona (if they are the one's I remember) are also kick ass. Why am I plugging her stuff? Eh, she's a cool kid and has helped me out more than I can count, so I'm in her debt whether she knows this or not.
Well that's all for now, don't shoplift and wash your feet.
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