This season of Bob Dylan's theme time radio hour is the best so far and especially in comparison to last season. Two shows on birds? Two shows on places around the world? President's Day? I'll take night; war; blood; beginnings, middles and ends as themes over those any day. I saw Annie Hall for the first time today and LOVED it. I see a lot of Woody Allen in Larry David. I tried watching the movie before, but caught it half way through and didn't understand the neurotic aesthetic. Benjamin Button was a good movie. I like the direction movie adaptations of literature has taken in not directly portraying the plot (because something huge always ends up missing), but looking at it from a different perspective. The same thing happened with Beowulf.

There's something about driving through Inglewood that is both completely surreal and ominous in the worst possible combination. For one thing, there are no signs. Everything that was painted directly onto the store fronts is faded and caking with dirt. There is a liquor store on every corner. The sky is black and planes fly askew to the building tops as if the city itself is out of proportion with the natural world. And worst of all, the pervasive lights cast everything and everyone in this sickening sodium vapor color. Everything is jaundice. But still I made the trudge down there, down the Avenue of Champs because Neil Young was playing at the Forum and I would gladly take a bullet for him. Then the concert was canceled. Fuck you Neil Young.

(P.s. but not really you rock)

Skee dat dip dap soo-va-boo-de-boo-de-boo-de boo-de-yap yap divva dee dap do scap skee do be da ba do!

<15 minutes interlude of horns, percussion, piano, and JIVE!>

I almost bought a viola today because my brother has been wanting to play it and his birthday is coming up. I'm also interested in taking up a new instrument -- my creative abilities have become stunted with routine -- and thought it would be a good idea for the both of us. So, I went over to my friend's house (who happens to own an unused viola) and haggled. But business and friendship kind of clash, so we dropped the matter and made "The Song of the Jungle" with his guitar and loop machine instead. Last week, we made "The Halls of Heaven." It's proven to be a valuable machine. I understand why Imogen Heap doesn't leave home without one, although I don't particularly like her music. And I bet Bach would have loved one.

I went to the LA county fair and bought a beanie. I've also been watching a lot of Seinfeld. I guess that's what inspired this entry:

The nights are as cold as a Patagonian winter. The streets are empty. My mind is empty, but with the exception of a single obsessive thought about a warm salami sandwich to satisfy the crater in my belly. But the diner is far and I am all alone here, left longing for some soft and reassuring touch. But hark! The delicate graces are not lost! My ears are warm again! Thank goodness I was wearing my Peruvian, Alpaca-wool skin hat!

I've been scaring myself silly with CreepyPastas lately, so I made one of my own based on events that happened to me just twenty minutes ago. Yes, I'm a nerd. What's worse, I'm a horror nerd.

If you ever find yourself outside and near a road during a complete power outage, you may notice a black truck pass you while all the lights are out. When the lights come back on, it will have already disappeared. If you're lucky enough, this will happen again within the following minute of the first power outage. You will notice the same black truck drive by. This is not deja vu.
If you are daring, stick out your thumb. The truck will pull over and let you inside. Do not look at the driver's face or you will be trapped in his vehicle for eternity. When you take your seat, he will ask you where you would like to go. You can reply with any destination in the world, willing that there is a road there, and he will take you. When you are ready to leave, simply stick out your thumb. You may continue to hitchhike rides from him as long as you wish, forever even, until you tell him to drop you off at the original spot where he picked you up. Then, he will be gone forever.
If, however, you do not stick out your thumb, best go inside and go right to bed because a third power outage will follow shortly. And when this one happens, you do not want the black truck to pass.

They're not hard to write. Even that one creeps me out, and I wrote it!

Ride with me on my magic jeepney* to the mythical land of the Philippines
where everyone lives in bahay kubos* and their pusods* are always exposed
where the gulay* are sweet, and a treat, for the children who pluck them with their bare feet
lupia*, churros, and turon*. I'd like to call it my home. Everyone walks around naked as the day they were born.
you can walk to the beach beacause its always within reach and dive in the ocean for an underwater peach
we'll stay up until dawn, have fun in the sun, and laugh all day long, you me and chan*

*a kind of cross between a bus and a jeep
*a bamboo hut on stilts
*belly-buttons
*vegetables
*kind of a fried taquito
*caramelized, wrapped plantains
*stomach

There once lived a Zen Master, Youku, who owned a collection of videos that ranged from current, theatrical releases to way-back-in-the-day black and white films. One day, a student of Zen came to Youku to view this collection.

"You may view my collection," said Youku, "but you must remain under my discipline for as long as you stay here."

The student agreed and, later that night, wished to view a film exploring the concept of fear. Youku played this film for him but, twelve minutes in, he paused it. The student sat patiently and the film continued five minutes later. Seven minutes later, the film paused again. Ten minutes later it continued.

Two minutes later the film paused for ten seconds and continued to pause for ten seconds for every five seconds the film played. The student became impatient and finally asked Youku,

"Why do you pause the film?"

But Youku did not reply. The student took matters into his own hands and decided to rewind the film so that it could have time to buffer before it played. However, what had loaded from the film, upon being rewound, disappeared. The student became angry,

"How am I supposed to enjoy this film if it cannot play in one fluid motion?"

But Youku did not reply. The student became upset and left. He went all across the lands in search of a Zen Master with a more complete collection of videos, but no one was as thorough as Youku.

Much time passed and the student returned to Youku very disappointed. Youku played a new video for the student and it was terrible.

I just dropped off Rosary at home. There's this really strange phenomena occurring to the east and west of where I live. Above my territory, the sky is clear and blue. But approximately ten miles both to the east and to the west, there are lightning storms. We drove for twenty minutes appreciating these odd weather circumstances, all the while I was concocting a short story in my head.
I normally don't like symbolism. To me, it seems so contrived. But I've never actually written anything (at least so far as I can remember) that had symbolism in it. And I really became enamored tonight with the fundamental concept of a lightning storm (I.e. flash, bang, silence. Repeat ad infinitum). So I thought I would try my hands at it.

--here in this journal, nor there in my head. And I've been meaning to get around to it, but lack of inspiration; time; and motivation have led me to indulge myself if the monotonous hedonism of the modern world: namely, simply watching movies and playing online instead. StumbleUpon is either the greatest invention of the internet, or the obelisk-like marker of its downfall. I could click my life away for hours with that thing. Regardless, I need to get back into the swing of things. I feel like updating and, hopefully, this will be the beginning of many more pieces of writing that I've lived so long for to be proud of. I'm rusty, sure. The sentence two before this one ended in a preposition, which is technically wrong. But hell, life needs to have its errors in order for the achievements to stand out anyway. So here goes.

I used to feel that my brain was being spied upon by media-giants for creative ideas to market. After that, I felt that I was just a few steps ahead of the game -- that I wasn't being spied upon, just that I had the same idea a few months prior to those who sold it. I don't know what I feel now, but its still pissing me off. I took it when The Science of Sleep came out a few months after I became fascinated with lucid dreaming and wondered how it would affect the waking life (I never actually saw the movie, but the previews I saw led me to believe that it was a hack of my own story idea). It happened before even earlier than that. As a child I played with imaginary animals that faught each other, only to find my imaginary world digitized into the video game Pokemon. And now it's happened again with the movie Mirrors. Ever since I read the pseudo-urban legends found on CreepyPasta some nine months ago, I've been terrified of mirrors. I've been ever visualizing the best way to capture my fears on a visual and psychological level, but have been beat to it by people of a lesser caliber. I'm getting sick of it. Perhaps, its finally time I stopped thinking so much and got down to actually doing something -- hence, the purpose of this post.

My music library is expanding with the ardor of a Chinese capitalist (no offense intended). Rhapsody is, by far, above and beyond iTunes software, simply for the feature of being able to preview an entire song before downloading it. I have a program that captures streaming music. So all I have to do is add a few albums to preview, play them, go to work, and I have 2GB of new music on my hard drive. And it's all very legal, because I'm paying for everything. It's so very awesome. Currently I've collected the Billie Holiday collection, John Lee Hooker albums that have interested me, all of Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Reverend Gary Davis, Blind Willie McTell, and my Odetta collection is nearing completion. I would worry about legal issues, but the thought has occured to me that nobody really wants, nor is even acquianted with, most of the music I listen to anyway. So I'm happy as a clam taking it off their hands from them.

I would talk about the important things that have been going on in my life, but it's all so anticlimactic. So, I'll wrap it up in a nutshell before I post and sign off for all of you who are interested. I graduated. I was working two jobs, but quit one and am much happier because of it. I've been with my girlfriend for over two years and we are very happy. The meaning of life is altruism because it is the only philosophy that provides an individual a meaningful purpose, but I won't follow it and doubt anyone else will. Paying bills sucks. I like my sansa fuza better than my ipod nano. apple cider vinegar, baking soda, and water have greatly improved my health. I work tomorrow morning. Goodnight.

I just remembered,
this past summer I had a dream about the paper I'm writing for my senior seminar right now.
Weird.

Dedicated to CreepyPasta:

The monster in the mirror always glares through your reflection
even when you are not looking at him
and dare not turn your back on him for fear what he will do.

He is standing behind you



I wanted to add more, but that's a fitting end. I'm working on my other blog with an essay entitled "The Two Most Important Animals to Man." Unfortunately, I won't have time to debut it until I get these other 35 pages on Mumbo Jumbo done. Also, I usually like to work in threes, so if anyone has any arguable evidence on the 3rd most important animal to man (sorry, 1st and 2nd place are taken) argue away in a comment, MLA format please. jkjkjkjk

Oh well. Back to work.

A friend of mine suggested to me that I start a blog solely for creative writing. His argument seemed legitimate. I'll post again when it's up.

A personality test told me I was an "architect:" one who creates and builds. As with legos, the "architect" creates big things out of small units. It could have been a bunch of lying bologna, or it could have been the evil ghost of St. Peter dictating my future. Nonetheless, I liked the idea.

There's this scene in Sleepy Hollow right before a mother, son, and father (in order) meet their demises via headless horseman. In it, is a toy mobile that illuminates the dark room with halloween stencils that circulate around a candle flame. I plan to build something similar to it... and incorporate a music box. According to plan, 90% of it will be hand-made. I'm really excited about this project.

What is it that nourishes a society? Capitalism seems to work so well for us because of the force of Consumerism. Our primary export is entertainment and pop culture floods our environment. Economy becomes self-sufficient because money is spent as soon as it is earned. But I'm getting off topic. Why can't strangers say "hi" to each other when passing on the sidewalk? Business takes place of community in capitalist societies. People know each other based on what one can do for the other. Relationships are give/take.

I could be crazy (I probably am), and I've covered a great deal of thinking with word of insufficient quality and quantity, but I've been brainstorming for a book I want to write about a self-sufficient community within the US: An American Switzerland. Is it possible for this community to survive with little (to no) outside influence?

Rosary and I are working on publishing a children's book. I'll supply the story; she, the art. I love having a girlfriend who's an artist; almost as much as I would love her whether or not she was an artist.

I go back to Berkeley soon, but only for 4 months. Then, I'll have my B.A. Then, I'll have to find a real job. BLEH! But don't worry. I plan to make my big break in the next two months. Then, I can just live off of the fame and glory it supplies me with for the rest of my life. I figure I have a 5,000,000,000:1 shot. Good odds. Better than 5,000,000,001:1.

Salinger is cool. I bought Nine Stories because I remembered Bananafish.

I know it sounds like I'm up to important things, but really, I've just been hanging out. Currently, I love Rosary, summer, TMNT, FFXII, Pasadena Weekly, and lumpia. I just wanted to let you know that I'm still alive. I still read your journals, so thank you for keeping me entertained!

It was the first time a cop car ever stopped us on our way to Pt. Dume. We park legally and walk half a mile to get to the beginning of the cliff that leads to the beach area, but they shined their lights on us and drove four feet behind us the whole half mile back to our cars. Granted, we hadn't made it on the beach yet, so thankfully we didn't have to walk too far. But the least they could have done was to give us a lift on the hood of their car instead of follow us like we were suspects.

But all fourteen of our hands were on the hood of the cop car while they checked our I.D's. Luckily, we got to talk to "good cop." Good Cop was happy to meet musicians and told us we weren't getting busted. Bad Cop was putting our I.D's in the system so Police H.Q. knew that the cops were doing their job. The tension was there -- like when he said, "If one of you pulled out a gun right now, I would have to shoot through all of you before I got the right one." And we all tapped our hands on the car. (Or when Pickles said, "You must get a lot of fingerprints on the car. Then, you come out here with tape in the morning to clean it up.") -- but at the end of it all, the cop told us he had gotten his car up to 160mph.

So Pt. Dume was a drag, but we ended up in Ventura county on one of those beaches that you have to climb down big rocks to get to. Totally, awesome. We played some cool music listening to the huge waves crash: dark, ominous folk music. The kind of music you take a big sigh after before talking about how awesome it was. But L.A. beaches have a problem with getting too cold after 3am; so after fifteen minutes of searching for car keys and something Scott lost, we headed home talking about the scene from The Big Lebowski where the Malibu Police Chief throws the coffee cup at "The Dude's" head screaming, "Stay out of Malibu, Lebowski!"

Consolidation:
Aced my Bible as Literature final, even though I always seem to confuse Noah with Moses; Job with Lot; Saul with Soloman; David with Daniel; and Isaac with Isaiah. Go me.

Insight:
Studying for my 20th century Literature final, I finally saw some insight to my presentation on the similarities between Hemingway's and Woolf's literary styles, specifically in The Sun Also Rises and Mrs. Dalloway. Don't read this if you don't care (I warned you). Both Hemingway and Woolf victimize their own gender to the point of incessant paranoia of being victimized by the opposing gender, which in turn textually reveals the implicit homosexuality of their main characters. Now, I don't know if Hemingway and/or Woolf were homosexual, but Nicole Kidman did kiss that other lady in The Hours. That, and Hemingway's mama dressed him up in clothes for little girls when he was a baby. FACT!

Endurance:
I couldn't sleep last night. I'm still awake.

Romance:
Rosary was here for the weekend. It made me very happy. I can't wait to see her on Wednesday when I go home.

Stress:
I've been dreaming that I miss all my classes the first day at UCLA. Oh! I'm taking summer school at UCLA and I think I'm going to bus there, which will give me four hours of study time on-the-way-to/coming-back-from summer classes. Woop-de-doo.

Annoyance:
I wanted to shower thirty minutes ago, but the charwoman is hosing down the communal facilities and they won't be dry for an hour. Hence, I'm posting.

Planning:
I've planned out about two weeks of dinners for when I'm finally home in SoCal. I'm very tired of the organic food they serve at the dining commons, which, for some reason, includes "Coca Cola Ham" Thursdays. Is Coca Cola organic?

Future:
Lots of people have been asking me what I plan to do when I graduate in December. Just to let you know, I have numerous possibilities:
1.) Go back to PCC and pick up a music degree in EIS music theory, which is only taught in two public institutions throughout the nation = perfect fallback job.
2.) Real Estate Appraiser's license.
3.) UCI for grad school. BATNA (I miss my Negotiations class)
4.) Find out (+ initiate) how to teach elementary school/ high school. Never thought I would be a teacher.
5.) Develop/Serve in a literacy program for adolescents. I want people to read what I write. The children are our future.
6.) Single-handedly bring back the Folk Revival Movement by writing and performing in small venues, which will gradually turn into Super Mega Star fame and fortune.
7.) All of the above.

Things are well with me. I hope you're all doing fine. Drop me a line. Anytime! It ain't a crime. Like my rhyme?

Jesus Christ.
The things I'll do
for an A paper.