Books, Books and Books

I just discovered (thanks Emily!) a fantastic new site devoted to sharing books and reviews. You can find the link in my links section to the right there. I encourage you to join and share the lifeblood of true culture...books!

www.goodreads.com

Welcome Back, Long Islands!

That's right. Saturday night marked the triumphant return of the Long Island Iced Tea to my diet. For many a moon, the Long Island was my staple drink. Three in one night would set me up quite well for some mayhem. But then, upon going to City Tavern where one of the bartenders ridiculed me for ordering them, and my so called friends, if they can so be called, berated me for my drink of choice (like they're the ones that have to drink it!), I switched to the now usual Red Bull vodka.

Well, out on Saturday night for Christina's birthday at Andalu, and starting without any sort of pre-party, and not surrounded by anyone who thought it worthwhile to ridicule my drink choice, I went straight for the Island of Long. And boy, did it work.

The night started, as I just said, at Andalu where we were celebrating Christina's 22nd birthday. If you don't know who she is or what she looks like, see the charming picture of her in the "Happy Birthday Christina!" post. Andalu is a place I haven't been before, and still couldn't tell you what the food is like because I pulled my occasional drinking through dinner routine. But it's a tapas place with a cool vibe. The crew for the evening was T, Aliza, Wendy, Brigid, Molly and myself. Zena was supposed to come, but apparently blacked out before 8pm.

After that, we stopped at Casanova. But it was empty. We left immediately.

On to the Elbo room at that point. A red bull vodka there is the equivalent of a pint of beer in size. It nearly decapitates me. I step outside. Air is good. These are literally the clips of moments I remember. We get in a cab (which feels a bit rushed) and end up at Fluid. I find out later that this is the point where we lost T. Surprisingly, Mike and Julian are already in line with Sonya. They tell us good luck, because they've been told that they're going to be the last people in line let in.

At this point, Christina goes to the bouncer with the entirety of our group, as I hang back in line. She explains to them that it's her birthday, he cards us and lets us in (I've snuck back up to the front at this point).

First time in Fluid. Pretty cool looking bar inside, good energy in the music, and that's about it. Well, that's about what I can tell you. I'd say something about the crowd, but I've decided for the moment to pass on social commentary. I don't know why. I guess I don't have much good to say, other than surprisingly running into a guy that I knew from Green Cross and the excellent company and energy of the group.

Thankfully, I had Sunday off, relaxed and threw a frisbee around, had an excellent omelet for breakfast and watched basketball.

Can you smell the grass of the ballpark yet?

Yea, USC Lost. So What?

For those that know me well, they can tell you that I invest quite a bit of emotion and passion into the sports teams that I cheer for. This includes, but is not limited to: USC, Notre Dame, 49ers, Giants. Last night, the improbably run of USC came to an end against North Carolina. Truthfully, I was surprised that they made it that far...I thought Texas was sure to take them out.

Now, normally, this would send me into a funk for three days, with the only salvation in sight being the possible loss by UCLA to Kansas. But I couldn't get the smile off my face.....

The frosh/soph track team I coach won the Trojan Relay Invitational (no relation to USC). Not just won a few races, but won the entire Frosh/Soph Girls division. I can't ever remember being less upset about a team loss, and realized it was because all this time, I've been a spectator and a fan of other teams...this frosh/soph team is actually my team. Not a team I cheer for because of some city or school affiliation, but a team I'm helping to build.

Let me tell you how we did it. It was a mixture of depth, speed, and a few surprise performances.

My 4x1 mile team came through with a third place finish, with all four running under 6:30. My 4x800 team came in with all four running under 2:53 to win the race. Our hurdler completed an entire race three stepping for the first time. The jumpers and throwers stepped in with some crucial points in their events, and then, in one of the more excellent moments of the night, a Devil Takes the Hindmost Mile, my milers took 2nd and 3rd in the race.

It was done with over 15 PRs, and several more Season records. It was done with smiles, amazing performances, and energy.

Now who could care about 10 guys I've never met losing to North Carolina after a night like that?

That's euphoria.

Happy Birthday Christina!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen...the other half of the duo we know as Brigid and Christina (or is it Christina and Brigid?) celebrates her 22nd birthday today. She is no longer just lucky to be 21 when she gets stopped for looking like she's 17. She can no longer claim that she's a high schooler (not that she would want to), and she joins the ranks of people everywhere who are still 4 years from being able to drive a rental car.

You can see her here, in one of her happier moments as a 21 year old. May the coming year bring the lady some know as X the best of everything, or the worst, depending on what she's feeling like at the moment. Cheers to you!

Thoughts on Last Night's Madness

Anyone watch that Tennessee game last night? How do you blow a 20 point lead? How do you fail to hit your free throws, and then make the unforgivable mistake of not calling a time out when you get a rebound with 5 seconds left, down by 1? Bruce Pearl needs to be soaking his head in a tub of lye right now to get all that crap out of the middle of it.

UCLA won ugly. A Bruin friend of mine is trying to argue that they had the most dominating win yesterday. They certainly had the nicest point differential, but that hardly means anything when that differential is only 8 or 9, against a Pittsburgh team that couldn't hang onto the ball to save their life. When your starting point guard goes something like 3-11 and gets all his points at the free throw line, you could be heading for some serious trouble. Like Kansas.

Kansas had to face an experienced and determined team in S. Ill. The problem is, the longer that game goes on as close as it was, the less pressure S. Ill has and the more Kansas has. Yet they faced that, held on and won.

Memphis over Texas A&M? Who cares? No matter who the winner was, they only had a shot when OSU didn't come back from 20 down with Oden on the bench for most of the game to win. Neither team had a chance, and neither team has one now. Unless of course OSU wasted all of its energy and motivation trying to erase Tennessee's monster lead.

Tonight, I don't hold out much hope for my Trojans, but hey, this is Madness, right? Good luck to Butler tonight, they'll need it to not get waxed by Florida. 3/4 for me are still intact (Florida, Kansas, Georgetown), with my championship game still intact as well (Florida v. GT, Florida wins)...

Fight on Trojans.

Spring is Here. Baseball Rejoices

That's right people...as you can see from the Places I'll Be links...baseball season is upon us, my season tickets are in full force, and Opening Day is less than 2 weeks away. In preparation for this joyous event, enjoy a video of Bonds hitting a home run last season (career #723 to be exact), and a picture of the beautiful ballpark.

Should you want to go to games during the season, let me know!

An Obama ad bitten from a Futurama ad bitten from an Apple ad

The Hilary 1984 ad has been getting craaaazy press. I saw it and immediately recognized it from a Futurama episode called "Futurestock." I didn't know that they had taken it from an Apple ad actually aired in 1984. Here are all 3 in one convenient place for your convenience. Cheers.

Man Dances in Street. World Celebrates.

In preparation for the creation of my "Dancing in the Street" video soon to be posted on YouTube, I thought I'd brighten the day with some footage from Pier 39 I got a few weeks ago. This breakdancing crew totally tore it up. Here's one of them. You can see all the videos I got from that day on my YouTube site (link to the right).

St. Patrick's Day

When you’re not sure if you’re coming or going, how can you be either? This, my friends, is my thought of the day for you. I’m actually just stalling until I can remember what I did Friday night. Ah, yes…started at Morty and JK’s place to play some Wii…this video game system seems to be popping up everywhere lately…I don’t know that it’ll be too long before I have to get one of my own.

From there, we stopped at City Tavern for the first time in weeks, but our barman Chris wasn’t there, so it didn’t seem the same. I watch in horror as Julian, Mike and Morty have Patron shots. As in two each. I want to throw up just watching Mike trying not to throw up on the floor of the bar. From City, I hopped over to the Sunset where I met up with Charles, Bob, Ferrer, Derek and Jordan. At this point, seeing straight is not an option, they’re closing the bar and I pass out at Damie’s place so I can wake up at 8 the next morning to go to Kezar Stadium for a track meet.

Where my 2 miler PRs by 55 seconds. And my miler PRs by 9 seconds. It’s a good day out at the track when our Distance Medley squad takes second to Carlmont.

I run home, shower, and this all feels like the same day and routine of Friday night, except I head up to Mike and Julian’s place where I’m introduced to the drinking version of Liar’s Dice. After a few games, I manage to convince them to break out the Beirut, where Mike and I get beaten pretty badly. Then Sean and I get beaten. Then we leave.

This time, Chris is at City Tavern and we get some drinks. Julian mentions Merlin’s, to which I puke. The place is crowded as hell for St. Patrick’s Day, and I see an awesome shirt that reads “Fight me, I’m Scottish.” After chugging my red bull vodka in an attempt to get out of there, I smoke a joint on the sidewalk and start looking for a cab, which at that time of night, on St. Pat’s day in the Marina is not a very good endeavor. I finally spot one and watch as a girl runs across the street and jumps in. I’m feeling friendly, so I ask her if she’s going my way.

“Where’s that?”

“Where are you going?”

She tells me, and I tell her that it’s close enough to on my way, and there’s few enough cabs, that I’ll take my chances and split the cab with her. Instead, she pays the entire fare to her place, tips the cabbie and has him restart the meter. I don’t know if this helped me or not, mainly because I don’t know where she was in relation to where I was going.

Cabbie takes me to 8th and Folsom for the Cat Club, and it’s definitely one of the better nights I’ve been there. In fact, hilarity ensues on multiple levels. Carolina’s working the door and is shocked to see me out, though Aliza explains to her that this isn’t really a new thing. Joanna, Aliza, T, Zena and Jackie are all out en masse. As I walk towards Zena, she stares at me like I just fell out of the sky before going, “Oh my gosh, is that you!?” Apparently, taken out of context, I can look like a very different fellow and she didn’t recognize me.

I step to the bar and ask if they take card. They do, but their machine is broken. He points me towards their ATM machine, which is also out of order. I’m 2 dollars short of a red bull vodka and the guy next to me at the bar gives me the two. “I’ve been there” he tells me. I tell him I have often relied on the kindness of strangers. This isn’t really true at all, but it feels to me like it fits the situation and I enjoy the way it sounds…I heard someone say it once…think it was Blanche in Streetcar.

I’m trying to chat with Zena about a variety of topics, but keep getting interrupted by every girl in the bar coming up to her with mention of her being single. I feel like I’ve mistakenly sat down next to a movie star and have to wait while she signs glossy 8x10s of herself with the quote, “Single again, Love Z”

Joanna’s faded and tells me that we should consider making out later in the evening. Her exact words are, “why don’t I drink this, and you drink that, and we’ll see what happens.” This leaves me, literally, speechless. I have no idea what to say to that. I think I come back with, “that’s very flattering!”

Jackie gets me out on the dance floor, which is trouble no matter how you spell it. And let me tell you…that girl can cut rugs! In fact, for a moment, I feel like I’ve walked into a funhouse and am watching myself dance in the mirror, but all my clothes are different. And I’m wearing glasses. And I’m a girl. It’s confusing, then I realize that we just dance very similarly. Being this part of the night though, it takes me a good 3 minutes to piece this all together.

All of this goes on as Aliza is talking to the Jolly Green Giant. Now, this nickname used to be reserved for Courtney Greene from middle school, but this girl Jen gets it now. I walk up to the bar and see Jen. I’m about eye level with her neck. Then I look closer and realize that she’s leaning against the bar. She’s not even standing up straight! This girl HAS to be at least 6’2”…I feel generally short as it is, and this girl straight makes me feel like a dwarf.

Aliza asks my second opinion, and I tell her if she’s got the chance, she better take her home. It’s close to closing time, and we step outside, where I see my old friend Patrick. For those of you that don’t know, Patrick is the owner of the building that Cat Club is in, and I had the pleasure of meeting him several weeks ago (see previous blog, “ Cell Phone Stupidity”). I chat it up with him…not sure if he remembers where he knows me from, but he certainly smiles and pretends that he does, which in and of itself works for me.

Aliza and Jen have disappeared. I somehow (I think it’s with T), make it back to their place. But not before buying kit kat bars at their 7-11. I swear, nothing is cooler than having a 7-11 two doors down from you. I think I’m going to petition the church across the street from my apartment to give up some of their property for a 7-11 and the overall betterment of society.

I wake up this morning on their family room floor, nicely bundled in a blanket and sleeping bag, not too terribly hung over. Somewhere in the background, I can hear Aliza walking Jen to the door.

A List of Movies, by month.

Friday, March 16, 2007

a List of Movies, by month. Current mood: cinephilic Since November, I've been keeping track of the movies I watch. I'll post at the end of each month with the current list. For now, here's since the beginning. November (8): 6: Borat 14: Walk the Line 15: Brick, The Sea Inside 20: Casino Royale, Favela Rising 23: Home for the Holidays 26: Down to the Bone December (11): 1: Happy Feet 5: District B-13 6: Color of Money 9: Apocalypto, Edward Scissorhands 13: The Proposition 15: Hard Candy 28: Clerks 30: Clerks 2, Baraka, Silence of the Lambs January (11): 5: Manito 8: Thank You For Smoking 9: Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade 13: The Conversation 21: Flight Plan 22: Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark 24: Pusher 27: Talladega Nights, Children of Men 30: Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, All About My Mother February (7): 3: Accepted 6: Hustle and Flow 15: Slam 19: Ferris Bueller's Day Off 26: End of Suburbia 27: Reno 911: the Movie 28: Munich

Trippin' Politicians (old)

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

Trippin Politicians (old) Current mood: okay September 23, 2005....little weird reprinting it here two years later to see that most of it is still much too relevant. Politicians trippin while dippin their feet in baths, Made of the oil and blood spilled and soaked up in rags In Iraq, while the homeless in our country moan and scream, It mocks the freedom and idea that makes the American dream, its obscene, To watch relief in days make its way around the world for tsunami relief as New Orleans swirls with no peace. And for what, to fuel our ever growing constant patriotism, while the senate's got our vision locked up in a prism? You can't listen or open up your ears to the fears they preach, Democracy in the Middle East is always just out of reach, We're no closer to world peace then when we killed Hitler's beast Watching silently from afar as the entire army feasts close your eyes humming happily while driving gas guzzling cars And don't forget the muzzles on al qaeda's guns are all ours, Supplied years ago by Reagan who didn't see in Osama a star It's not far From being ended, listen and you can sense it And now, well now it might just be too late, We could maybe walk and chew gum for a while but now we're caught spinning plates It just has to bring a smile as we write our own fate in the blank slate of the sands abroad Because we all know the Bible, but no one's read the Koran And we trod Overseas to bring our version of freedom, Bring to their knees insurgencies that we nurtured and feeded, make them bow to democracy recite the Pledge of Allegiance Maybe when we're done with Iraqi's we'll go take out the Koreans But liberty and justice for all is a hoax, Spewed by the common denominator of republican folks, Getting confused that the church and state are supposed to be different, How long before the whole Muslim faith gets on their hit list? Freedom for all is more like just freedom for some, How can we bring it to foreign countries when our own gays can't have none? Either homosexuality's a choice, or it's something innate, Either way there's supposed to be separation between church and state. Then all of a sudden the separation quickly blurs, as gays get banned from marriage, military and constantly slurred Then law makers feel justified bringing the Bible to the table And they limit the scope of others' freedom because God's in their stable. So now the founding fathers' first idea is gone, we still think that salvation came with the topple of Saddam So long, to the government talking out of both sides of their mouth, Breaking covenants A big joke while the whole damn economy goes down, their pay never goes south, in fact they vote yearly for a raise, to reflect the rising cost of living for which the taxpayer pays Senators making 150,000 a year Does it make sense? Or is anyone else feeling the fear of skyrocketing debt? when CNN brings top stories, and surely they will, when will the people decide enough blood has been spilled? My guess is maybe in a few short years, When threat levels, dead bodies and death induced tears People finally stand up and end those bastards careers. And for now, well it might just be too late, Cause there's only so long that Mr. Bush can spin plates.

The First Post

So here it is. After looking at the 518 blogspot while simultaneously laughing and crying, I decided to create my own, rival blog. I laughed because it's hilarious and a fantastic idea. I cry because I can't handle 10 hours of YouTube video hand selected by Julian.

As I already blogged on myspace, I'll be re-posting them here for the amusement and archival purposes of all. This will ensure maximum coverage as well as creating for me a back-up in case myspace gets destroyed or something like that.

A Busted Camera and Other Nonsense

Monday, March 05, 2007

A Busted Camera and Other Nonsense (Fri & Sat) Current mood: cheerful The relocation of my pre-partying this weekend led to an interesting set of evenings. Friday night, it all started at Vincent Chang's place…an apartment on the 37th floor of a downtown apartment building. These views were incredible, and basically felt like you were penthouse status. It was some usual Crystal cats…Charles, Alan, Vincent, Phil, Matt Goldstein, Anjali, Mona…we partied and I got my first chance to play Wii…trying Tennis, Baseball and Bowling. Pretty damn fun stuff out there for anyone that hasn't tried it! Let me just say that it's hard for me to get in the drinking mood without an hour or two of pre-drinking or Beirut. We left from there and I jumped over to meet up with T and Aliza in the Castro. I had trouble getting a cab, which meant another marathon walk from 3rd and Market to about 10th. I jumped a cab the rest of the way, and then got severely confused by the text messages saying, "come to the bar." I'm like, there's thirty bars around here! "No, the bar!" Finally, I realize she means The Bar, and I walk into a trendy gay bar with a smattering of women…mostly Aliza and her friends. The place is cool enough, but T, Zena and some others are heading over to meet up with Christina. As of 6pm on Friday, she was not very happy with me at all, so going there didn't seem like the best idea. Aliza and I hang around, kill another drink and then head out to the corner. I bring out a joint, but I'm not ready for it. The speed with which I finished my last red bull vodka combines with the pot and I feel like I want to unload everything in my stomach out onto the street. Meanwhile, as I fight nausea, Aliza is touting the benefits of going to the Marina and meeting up with the rest of them. I tell her that she's only making me want to throw up more with those kinds of ideas. I settle my stomach and put what's left of my game face back on. I tell Aliza to lead us to a bar, to which she responds, in her own neighborhood, that she doesn't know any good places. She tries to take me into this place called "Boy Bar," but I explain very nicely to her that as a straight guy and a lesbian, we should probably be exploring our options in a bar with more actual women of either orientation. We stagger down Market and I suggest the Mint. She doesn't want to do that. I suggest another bar, that one sucks. Then she tells me, "dude, no good bars are going to be open." "Aliza! It's Friday night at 12:15. If we can't find another bar to get a drink in, you're fucking fired!" She takes me to Lucky 13, which is basically a biker/punk/goth type crowd on Market. It's cool enough and we have another drink before Aliza starts looking sloppy enough to take home. We walk back to her place, relax on her couch and smoke another joint. She's convinced that there's three of us in the room, asking me about Renee, their roommate. I explain to her that Renee is most likely in bed and that there's only the two of us in the room. She asks who the third person is before realizing that this is just her seeing double of me. She excuses herself and I get to listen as she throws up in the bathroom. She then politely tells me that she's heading to bed. I walk out of her house and immediately think that buying a 22 of Mickey's for my cab ride is a fantastic idea. The cab driver looks at me sideways, but I keep the can down so he can't say anything. By the time I show up at Swig, the momentum that I lost listening to Aliza vomit has been regained through the power of Mickey's. Swig is just how I remembered it, and it's already late. I get one glass of water in there by the time last call hits, and I jump back in a cab to go home. This is where my night turns to shit. I get out of the cab at the Caltrain station and think that hell, this is the perfect time for some dancing in the street videos. I take two good ones. I'm on my third, and as I head back to the camera, I make the exuberant mistake of scooping, rather than picking it up off the ground, and watch in horrified slow motion as it somersaults, bounces off the palm of my hand, and lands lens down on the sidewalk. I almost get mad, then realize I could have prevented it. I almost cry, then realize that it's a spilled camera, so no use in that. I look at it very disappointedly, like somehow shame on you camera, get in my car and drive home. Saturday night I head up to the city with the idea of hanging out with Brigid for her birthday. I mean, c'mon people, this is Brigid we're talking about here! I start in the Sunset at a place called Ireland 32 with Damie. They're there to hear a friend of theirs play drums for the band on their cd release party. We're there for a bit when Aliza and her crew of basketball coaches make it over from 6th and Clement to meet me. Solid crew, those people. They want pizza, they get pizza. At this point, it's almost midnight (yea, I got started real real late Saturday, mostly, I think, from being exhausted from the ultimate frisbee tournament I played that day, which I then followed up with 3 taco supremes, 2 gorditas and a chalupa from Taco Bell). You can call me a chalupa! Aliza, again, is agitating to go to the Marina, which is odd because she wanted to go there Friday night, and here she is again going after it. The difference is that tonight, we have a crew to meet there…Cella, maybe Julian and some others for Nicky Gillette's birthday party. We walk into Mauna Loa, and the excitement that was moving Aliza towards the marina fades when she enters and sees what she will only refer to as "straight white America." She begins to get agitated. I explain to her that A) she had wanted to go to the marina, what did she expect? B) we're only there to meet some people, and C) I happen to be straight and white, so she should stop trying to stereotype it all. All of a sudden, I'm seeing shades of Aliza wanting to fight. Talking loudly about the people she doesn't like in the bar, getting aggressive when someone bumps into her, and yelling at some poor girl playing the arcade basketball machine…the girl misses a few shots and Aliza "Michael Jordan" Parpia yells out, "What the hell are you doing?!" I take her away from the game and back towards the bar. Mike and Julian never show up. I don't know what their story is. We head outside, and Joanna, our companion on this little adventure into straight white America, is confused as to why I'm not taking a cab with them. I explain the triangle that is the city to her, and how her destination and mine are on different ends of that. She gets it, hops in the cab with Aliza, and they're gone. I stagger up to Bar None where I had seen JK walking to while we were outside Mauna Loa. We hang out for a bit, and then he heads home, I head up the street, walk around the corner, sit down and smoke until the infamous Maurod the Cabbie shows up to drive me back to Damie's, where much to Derek's dismay, I smoke him out at 3:30 am before passing out. Another successful night in the city. Stay tuned.

Saturday's Sense of Gravity

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Saturday's Sense of Gravity Current mood: cold After running to the city to retrieve my phone, having Nini's and then working for the rest of the day, Saturday night can't seem to come soon enough. I take a short nap and reload with a bonne sante sandwich, before showering and jumping in the car. Weird to have a starting destination other than Mike and Julian's place, but it's to Damie's I go to meet up with them and Charles. Apparently, they're all a wreck. Actually, that's probably an understatement when you're talking about three individuals that left the Cat Club the night before, passed out, and then got up and started drinking at 10 in the morning, not to stop all day. I come in with three 12s of coors light, and hear nothing but groans and moans over the fact that I'm going to make them drink more beer. It's a later start, but I get into a rhythm with the Beirut, and learn their new three player version of the game. The party we're aiming for is one of Pat's friends birthday parties. They've rented out Gravity, and I can tell you from experience that whenever one of Pat's friends or group rents out a bar for a party, you should always try to attend. On the way, Charles tells me that there's an evite for the party, and he's not sure if he put plus one to get us in or not. There will be a guestlist at the door. We hop out of the cab and head up. Bouncer asks the name, Charles says Charles. "Which guest list are you on?" Charles hesitates, the bouncer smells fear. "The evite one." "Whose?" "I don't know, the evite." "Have you two been smoking pot?" (in unison) "Yes." "I'm just fucking with you. Come on in, have a good time." We walk in and see the usual suspects…Pat, Vincent Chang, Matt Goldstein. The place is fucking packed. I feel like a sardine and a fish out of water all at the same time. I spend ten minutes trying to get 12 feet to the doorway to the bathroom, only to be told that that's the kitchen, not the bathroom, and I can't come in. I then fight ten minutes back to the original spot I left, to have to change direction and go towards the bathroom. While I don't remember all that much of it, I can tell from the evidence this morning that I spent quite some time taking pictures, most from about waist level up (as in I was holding the camera at my waist and taking pictures). My morning consists of a walk from Hayes and Clayton to 8th and Judah. Next up…Sunday night tomfoolery at Behan's.

Cell Phone Stupidity

February 24, 2007

Cell Phone Stupidity
Current mood: grateful

"Adam, wake up."

"go away."

"Adam, wake up. You need to go to the city."

This is Jessie poking me. "Call Eddy, in the city, he has your phone." I'm not sure how that happened. I better retrace my steps. I'm not wearing my clothes, so at least I know I got them off before getting in bed.

My shoes are in the bathroom, that's a good sign that I brushed my teeth. I remember coming in from the garage, I think I was singing, and Jessie was telling me to be quiet.

She drove us home. We walked back to the car from Mike's place after I went up there to get my backpack and ipod. I had gone up after the cab dropped us off. Shit. There goes my phone.

The cab picked us up after I had finished my bacon wrapped hot dog with everything on it. That hot dog was pretty special. Especially the bacon. I thought I was dying and being reborn all at the same time.

We got the hot dogs after I stumbled out the front door of the side entrance to the upstairs part of the Cat Club. I finished my drink after I ordered it and talked to some people. Before that, four girls molested me in the back room, taking seductive pictures with me. They do this with so much glee and energy that the only thing I can think of is they're trying to get photos with a random guy to make an ex boyfriend jealous. This all happened after I came out of the bathroom, where I didn't throw up.

I had been in the bathroom giving myself a pep talk. My stomach wanted to get rid of the tequila I had put in it, and my mind was telling me that this was a poor idea. I found my way there after almost tripping down the stairs in a hazy fog. I had been up in an office when everyone was ready, locked and poured the tequila shots.

It was great tequila, or so it must have been by the way everyone raved when the owner of the building pulled it out. This guy was tight as hell. Of all the people I could imagine owning the building that the Cat Club is in, I don't know that I would have pictured a fortyish year old asian guy with hair down to his shoulders. Good old Patrick.

Patrick knows Goo and David, whose birthday party we were there celebrating. The upper room there I usually not available, or very expensive to rent out. In fact, Patrick says that they rarely open it out to anyone but their good friends, and obviously, as we're partying there, Goo and David qualify. I got the pleasure of sitting next to him after he waved me to the chair and told me to have a seat. Everyone there had followed for the joint. I swear, sometimes I feel like the pied piper for pot heads. Patrick says to spark that. He doesn't hit it, but I must say that smoking in the building owner's office upstairs was pretty awesome.

I had been looking for a place to smoke when David told me to follow him upstairs. I had just come from talking to Jessie's co-worker Murray, who I briefly considered chucking into a brick wall. I knew that this type of rage would not go unpunished, and headed away from him.

We're three drinks or so deep when the Jessie work crowd shows up…Robin, Murray and some others. D-amie, Charles and the rest are already there. Go go dancers shake that shit as I finish my first drink at the bar.

I walk up the stairs very confused. I've been to the Cat Club, but since when is there a separate entrance to go to an upstairs bar? Since when is there an upstairs bar for that matter?

The cab drops us off at the corner and Jessie and I head for the club. There's two lines, and I can tell from the drunk straight guys waiting by the second door that that's the birthday party we're looking for.

We walk to the bart station to catch a cab. It's fucking freezing out.

We tidy up Mike and Julian's place after our last game of Beirut. I amuse myself by arranging the empties to spell out "JC" on the counter. Either they'll think Jesus is sending them a message or they'll know that I have much love for Julian.

Mike, Sonya, Julian and Sean leave to head out to some bar somewhere. I can't get more detailed than this as I have no idea where they went.

We play a few games of Beirut after I park my car.

Jessie and I leave the house about 8 o'clock to head up to the city. Rockstar/vodka in hand for the ride.

So let me tell you about the night I lost my phone.

Grown Ass Men and Women

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

Grown Ass Men and Women Current mood: chipper Let me tell you about the party. I'll tell you about the party that ends all parties. Let me tell you about the evening to end all evenings...about jokes and tokes, chicks and blokes, friends and home folks. Let me tell you of the endless vodka, the bottomless platters of food, the joints that would not end and the music that would not stop. This, my friends, is the story of the Grown Ass Man Party. The evite, titled, "Somehow I became a grown ass man," is for Alan's 25th birthday. As this is a milestone, and as law school graduation is fast approaching, his parents decided to throw a bash for the occasion. And let me tell you something...Alan's family doesn't fuck around. At all. The evite lists 66 yeses, but we're probably talking a bit over 120 when you start counting the family members and family friends that never got the evite. Hosted at the Fandorin restaurant in Burlingame, the venue is beautiful. One side of the restaurant/club are windows looking onto the water, tables are set up everywhere and there's a bar/dance floor at the front. At about 7:45, Julian, Cella, Sonya, Kelsey, Morty, Christina and myself roll in to find the first event of the night...a red wine social accompanied by the soft sounds of a jazz trio. Everyone's there...we're talking Miller, Masarsky, Avidor, Vic, Charles, Loesche, Fong, Ferrer, Lane, Arturro, Phil, Jordan, Will and Carew, JK, Dawson, Sandra, Derek and Mamie, Sutton, Mona, Vitaly, and really, I can go on, but who wants to read a list? Let's just say it was a reunion of sorts. The tables are filled with the appetizers and strategically placed bottles of Ketel One. Everywhere. Everyone meets and greets for a bit, and about 8:15 or so we get the call to sit down. People start digging into the food...raw fish, cold meats, shrimp cocktail served in hollowed out pineapples, tomato and mozzarella salads, more vodka. People dig in while speeches are made, Alan's dad who tells of Alan's mom worrying that he had a non-existent social life in middle school, ironic considering the three full tables of friends that grace the event. Vic and Alan's mom give speeches, and then a bunch of people I either didn't know or don't remember. By the time the main course arrives at the table, I'm 2/8 joints deep (don't ask me how I ended up with 8 rolled joints, it certainly wasn't my intention at the time I was rolling), and several drinks in. As people shoot vodka or mix it with orange juice or cranberry, I've secretly set up a private bar underneath my chair that consists of numerous cans of red bulls to mix with my vodka. I start getting drunker. More drunk. Whatever. I think it's at this point that an unnamed couple goes outside to have sex. They leave soon after to head back to the city. Derek's looking shifty about this time, and the pictures I have prove it. The food comes out in droves, but everyone is a bit too fucked up to care about eating...in fact at this point, most of the concentration is on drinking, dancing or smoking outside. A moment of hilarity ensues when Sandra introduces herself to Christina as "devil woman," or something along those lines, which is a bit shocking to me considering I hadn't said anything negative to Christina about her...seems a bit overly self-persecuting (pitying?) as well. I think, "I'm Sandra" might have worked just as well. I watch from afar as they have a conversation, which I'm sure has Christina wondering why she wasn't able to avoid it when she was definitely trying to. I'd interrupt, but hey, really not my place! At this point, the party turns into a haze. There's an amazing couple of moments as Dawson and Alan rip a drum duet to the delight of the entire crowd. They jam for a good ten minutes, ripping it apart. Crowd goes nuts. More smoking, more drinking. DJ comes on and people start dancing. I remember one point, that sums up the extravagance of the evening well...I'm sitting at the table pouring myself a drink. I'm literally the only one sitting at a table, everyone else is up and about, dancing or outside. As I'm sitting there, I watch as four waiters start bringing out trays of cakes and desserts, placing them strategically throughout the tables. I look at all this food and realize that not only am I the only one sitting down, but no one in the room is gonna even come close to touching those desserts! But they keep bringing them out, putting more food down on already abandoned tables. The party starts dwindling around 3 am...Derek comes to me and tells me, "Mamie says she's cool to drive." to which I start laughing uncontrollably and ask him just how drunk he is. I'm fucked up, but I know I'm not getting into any car driven by anyone who's been at this party. I tell him to send Mamie over and she tells me, "the pot straightened me out," to which I laugh even harder. The order comes down for a cab, it shows up, we hop in and get home around 3:30. For all the hype about this party beforehand, I must say, it lived up to all of it. A bottle of vodka would get finished, and a new one would show up. There was so much food people stopped eating and it piled up on plates on empty tables. The DJ was sick and everyone danced, including a very drunk Alan's dad, who when I left was standing in the corner of the club smoking cigarettes. Mass congrats to my boy Alan, who joins the ranks of 25 year olds among us, and to his parents, for throwing one of the most unbelievable parties, both in terms of amenities and crowd, that I've ever had the pleasure of attending. For those of you interested, there's a few pictures of the party up in the profile...I'll be working on uploading more throughout the week, as there's some good ones. The rest of the weekend is pretty much recovery...Saturday night I fall asleep early, even after trying to nap in the day so I can party again. Sunday, I run the open house. By the way...Sunday nights at Beehan's on Broadway? Check it out...one of the only open bars, they have karaoke, and everytime I've been there, it's been ridiculous. Stop by on a Sunday, you'll probably find me there from now on! Up next...Part 2 of "I don't like this cat, it reads minds" followed by the USC Alum mixer on Wednesday night. Shit, with a holiday week, that's tomorrow! Awesome.

Days of Hearts and Flowers

Friday, February 16, 2007

Days of Hearts and Flowers Current mood: working Yesa, I'm speaking about Valentine's Day. I'm speaking of that day of days when all the sad sap relationships that haven't had any romance in ten years break out the flowers and candy to try to rekindle it all again. I'm speaking of the day where relationships freshly budding find more stomach butterflies to lift them up on gossamer wings of the giddy feeling that only that feeling can give you. It's the day when shit gets ruined if it doesn't go well, things go up if it does, and others stay stagnant if they're simply moving sideways. Finally, it's the day for the single people of the world to do one of two things...wallow in their misery and sorrow and cry for themselves, or go out and have a great time because they're not spending money or worrying about shit but themselves. Personally speaking, I see a few sides to Valentine's Day. I've been in relationships during, I've been single during, and I also try to keep the third eye looking at the fact that seriously, it's a great consumer day for selling more in between Christmas and Easter. So this Valentine's Day, I tried to think about the last few. Although it seems like a year since my last relationship, it's not even close to that long, so I count back a few and realize that this is my first single Vday in 4 years. I feel like I should have some sort of graduation party to dance in the street. I know that the best person for this type of dancing is probably Aliza. The plan is to get a few games of beirut in before meeting her somewhere in the mission, but on the drive up 101, I find myself next to Wolfklain. We pull a talk on cell phone while driving next to each other move that certainly has those behind us ticked, and when I ask what he's doing tonight, he tells me that he was just about to call his ex girlfriend. GREAAAAT Idea I tell him. Come with me instead. We get to the Mission, La Rondella is the destination for margaritas. Try them there, they're strong. The three of us then migrate, but there's a bit of a problem...Tyler keeps trying to lead us places and all his moves are wrong. I think secretly that in the back of his brain a late night ex girlfriend call is on his mind, and he's leading us blindly to a slaughtered evening. He takes us to Blondie's, which for as pleasant as the bartender is is pretty dead. We have a few drinks and then get the word that T and the rest are at the Lex. Now, I have a funny relationship with the Lex. It stands for the Lexington Club, down in the mission. I first heard about it when I saw a bulletin board post asking for people to do a survey about it. I thought lex might stand for something I had tried, so I got two questions in and when I said, no, I hadn't been to the Lexington Club, the survey was over. Ooops. So my chance finally arrived to visit the infamous lesbian bar, and I was impressed with how chill it was. It's got a pool table, spacious bar, attentive bartenders, and you didn't feel like you were constantly elbowing for room for yourself. Maybe this had something to do with the fact that it was a Wednesday night, but it was good. There's no glares of "what are you doing here, you're out of place," just a good relaxed atmosphere. T, their new roommate Rene(e?), Julia and some other girls were there. Now, the funny part is that Tyler, who last weekend (blog "Transfers") took me to a gay bar, get's alllll uncomfortable at the lesbian bar. Someone tell me what that bullshit's about. Charles shows up a little later in the evening to meet everyone, and Christina follows. The amusing part of the evening is when T and Aliza's new roommate wants to leave and I tell her she should stay and be entertained, and if I can't keep her entertained for 2 minutes, she can go. Before she has a chance to question this, I start talking...real animated, questions, answers, hand gestures, comments about the bar and my evening in general...I get to the end and I look at her and say, "guess what? I just entertained you for 120 seconds." She sticks around after that, and damn if I'm not stoked that two of the coolest girls I know have an awesome roommate. We leave the bar to hit Taqueria Cancun, steak and sour cream burrito, what what! After that, it's a morning hung over car ride back to the Peninsula. Tune in this weekend for the party event of the year, The Grown Ass Man Party.

Throwin Bows (Saturday)

Tuesday, February 13, 2007

Throwin Bows (Saturday) Current mood: cold Saturday was probably the most sluggish I've been on an evening out lately. A hung over Saturday teamed up with a ridiculously large Nini's breakfast put me pretty much under the table all day. I had to rally at 6 to go to the housewarming party for the couple I bought the condo for. They've created in an incredible home, and it was excellent to know I played a huge role in that process. As a result though, I get to the city late and start beirut late, and the food at the housewarming didn't really agree with my drinking agenda. It takes me two red bull vodkas, a lot of heckling from Charles to get my game face on, and that doesn't even happen til around 11. We've accompanied Julian and his friend to City, and we both start getting antsy to go. He calls up Will and we hop in a cab to the Mission to meet up with him, his roommate, and his girlfriend Carew (sorry if I'm butchering that). We head out to the Elbo Room, another venue I hadn't been to before, and this place was tight. Pool table, packed lower floor, and a room upstairs we elected not to go to for virtue of saving cover. Charles and I sit there, and see Will's roommate talking to a girl, so we don't want to interrupt. We spend five minutes chatting about his chances, what's going down, and how the girl looks a lot like Will's girlfriend. It isn't until we walk over to kick it with him that we realize it is and feel like we've had the dumbest conversation for ten minutes. We stay out until about two, cab it back from Will's, and you can get the lack of craziness in the night by the fact that we drove home from Mike's when we got there. It was a good, fun, relaxed evening in comparison to the insanity that was Friday. In other news, I got my HD tivo in and connected. Tivo helped free me from the family room, but I still had a teather when it came to HD. Now, the leashes have all been cut, and I'll never, ever, not even for an HD sporting event, need to stay home again if I have something better to do. Not that I made any sort of habit of that before, but now it's all out the window and all bets are off. If you or anyone you know wants to buy my old Tivo, I'm offering a fantastic deal on it, so get at me. In the meanwhile, prepare for Friday night debauchery.

Transfers (Friday Night)

Sunday, February 11, 2007

Transfers (Friday Night) Current mood: chipper So Alan pointed out to me this weekend that I should now refer to beirut followed by pre-party at City Tavern as "Default." I thought the idea was stellar. Friday, I play a few games of beirut before Jullan, Cella, Sonya, Sean, Eric Boyle from UCLA and myself head out to Ace Wasabi's for dinner. We don't even get there until around 10, but we get seated right away. Sets of sake ensue. The food comes and for some reason the smell just doesn't sit right with me. I go outside to smoke. As I'm back inside, waiting for the bathroom, a waitress walks by and says, "Is someone smoking pot in the bathroom?!?!" She's very concerned, but I give her the very firm, "no," and she looks at me with a suspicious grin and asks, "were you smoking it outside?" This happens to be Cella's favorite part of the evening. From there we head to City Tavern where Julian has created a new drink. He calls it the Wizard's Sleeve, although it's pointed out to him that that's actually a slang word for a vagina, so he changes it to a Merlin. Merlins consist of Rumpleminze (yea, see my fabulous description of that in a previous post where I almost would have rather drank vomit), butterscotch schnapps and something else. The resulting drink tastes a lot like a thin mint that you could destroy yourself with. It almost puts me down for good. I get the call to bounce and head to North Beach to pick up Tyler who's with Matt and Amara. From there, we cruise to Cat Club, only to find out that there's a cover that neither Matt nor Amara want to pay. I'm down for whatever at that point, but they don't want to so we head to another bar. I miss the name of it. When Matt and Amara cut out on us, Tyler tells me that there's two girls he knows at another bar, and we should head over there. Two girls sounds great, so we go. We walk in, and I don't see any girls. Like, literally, I don't see ANY. As I start looking around, I realize that not only is it short on girls, but most of the guys are locked into some type of embrace. This is when it hits me that Tyler has taken me to Transfer, a gay bar on 14th and Church. Now, this is exciting for me...I obviously have to give up any ambitions I had of meeting someone for the evening, but it does get to be chalked up as my first time in a gay bar, and I'm all about the new experiences, so that works out fine. And the girls Tyler had us come out for are very cute. And very tricky. They ask me what I do in a polite and curious way. I tell them, filling them in on details when they ask. I politely return the question to get, "guess." Now, my mom didn't raise an idiot. I might have dull moments, but I'm not an idiot, and the "guess" is like a woman asking, "how old do you think I look?" there are no winners here. So I go with the safety response, students, to get a "that's right, but what kind of students?" I guess art, and I'm right again. Turns out they're metal workers. Interesting. I had guessed sculptor and digital media. We're there so Tyler can see this girl Monster. Literally, they call her Monster. I don't know why, but I'm also fairly certain that I don't want to find out. And I won't get to. The lights come up, 2 am is upon us, and they start moving people out of the bar. I start wandering along and Tyler grabs my arm and goes, no no, stay. Turns out, one of the bartenders is celebrating his last evening, and as soon as the last of the regular patrons are out, they lock the door and keep serving drinks. I've never been in a full bar past 2 before, as I was pretty sure it was illegal, so drinking free drinks in there until 3:30 is a novel idea. About that time, it's time to go. Miraculously, after I leave the bar, I end up exactly where I wanted to be. Where's that, you might ask. Well friend, that's for another story.

Drunk, Stood Up, Fed and Crazy

Saturday, February 03, 2007

Drunk, Stood Up, Fed and Crazy Current mood: bouncy Wow. That's all I have to say this morning. Wow. That was a doozy of a night. Probably one of the more random, drawn out and surprising evenings of the last six months. I'm not sure where to begin, so I guess I have to start with this....if you're with me, and I need to go meet up with someone, either don't go, or don't allow me to go. I apparently have wretched luck with people telling me to meet them places and then leaving before I get there, or right when I get there. I guess this all starts on Tuesday with an IM from Erin. She says the blogs are fun and she and some girlfriends need to have a good time out and wanted to know if they could tag along with me. Now, the way she says this, it sounds to me like they're coming up for the city night with me experience, so I feverishly start working on a plan for the evening. There's tons of things going down, so it doesn't look like it will be too hard to do some mass hopping for the evening. However, then I find out that "tag along with you," actually means, "we're going to dinner in the city and might try to meet up with you"...two very different things, but I think, hey, that's cool, saves me planning an evening for girls! So you might expect me to jump into starting with beirut at this point. Not the case. I actually start earlier, at 5, at Tres Agaves in the city. Margaritas at happy hour with Julian's work buddies. From there, I hit McD's for a quick snack and then head to Mike's place where we start beirut at around 7. Derek shows up around 8 or so and we keep playing until a little later, 9 or 10ish, and then head out. We're in the process of looking for a cab when Charles picks up his cell phone and is actually just minutes away, nay, seconds, as he turns the corner and picks us up. We head out to North Beach for Miller's housewarming party. Props to Miller on this new place...it's huge, beautifully redone hardwood floors, small balcony, updated kitchen, immaculate. It's a no heels party, so girls are taking off their shoes and putting on little slipper things. It's at this point that the rampant text messaging starts, and where I learn the lesson I should have learned with Brandon last week...don't go someplace in the city just because someone says they're there. They won't be by the time you make it there. Charles and Derek are ready to bounce, so we decide to head to Dolce where Erin and her group is. Big mistake. After walking blocks to get there, we get in line and the text message reads, "we're not at dolce anymore, we're at Boss," wherever the fuck that is. Charles laughs at me for once again being stood up, first by Brandon last week at Zebra/Velvet, and this time by Erin. He wants to be absolutely certain that I'm not intending a trip across town to Boss. I assure him that this will not be happening. We head instead to Fuse where we get a drink or two (at this point, I really have no idea), and Charles and Derek are ready to go. But Charles' car is one way, Derek's place another, and Mike's, where my car is, in a third. I tell Charles to go ahead and take Derek home, I'll catch a cab. This is not as easy as I might have anticipated. Every cab has someone in it. Every cabbie I know isn't driving. I start walking. Now, keep in mind I'm around the strip clubs in North Beach...I light my joint and keep walking. And walking. And walking. My trek takes me through downtown, across Market and I end up in front of the Gold Club. At this point it's around 2:30 am or so, I call Victor thinking that he might be home to smoke a joint. He's actually a block away from Gold Club with his crew of merry pranksters. Their intent...breakfast at the strip club. Now, at this point, I'm too faded too say no, but I'm also too faded to understand why we don't end up going in. I think they might have stopped serving food, and everyone had to eat. Instead we head to Mel's. I order a patty melt and a vanilla malt. The girl across from me, with some name Biata or something (I think she said Miata with a B?) tries to take most of it. I inform her this will not be happening as I hover over my food like a guardian troll. We finish eating, and big money bags Simon at the end of the table tells us about this game that he likes to play. Credit card roulette. You put everyone's credit card in, and have the waitress draw them randomly behind her back. The last card in her hand is the one that pays for the entire meal. We're sitting 8 deep at Mel's now, but I figure, there's no way I'll get this tab, so I agree. As the waitress starts pulling cards, it's Alan that's in the clear first, then JK, then Vic, mine, and then bam, like some stroke of ultimate cosmic karma, the last card she's holding is Simon's. And he's not happy about it. Apparently, while he brought this game up with a smile on his face, and had played it before...he had never actually lost. Having never tasted defeat in credit card roulette before, his jaw drops and he proclaims, "I'm never playing this game again." Yea, that must suck to lose, but if he always plays, and always plays because he's never lost, I can only say he had to be due. We head back, but I know what happens if I go up for a smoke at Vic's, and I'm not spending the night there. No no, instead, my brilliance leads me to walk back to Mike's. On the way, I start a new habit of clandestine videography. I pick a place, set the camera up on the ground or on a railing, hit record and dance. You always see the iPod commercials with the dancing, and I've always wished more people danced in public, so I've decided that late night, or in odd spots where I can put my camera down for a bit, I'll be doing some undercover dancing...I take two or three videos last night before I pick up my shit, jump in my car and drive home, arriving at 4:30 am, almost twelve hours exactly since I left for Tres Agaves. That was just about as crazy as one evening gets. And now to do it again (with some variation, I'm sure), tonight. Followed by the super bowl tomorrow. Hopefully I'll still be living on Monday.

"I don't like this cat. It reads minds" (old)

"I don't like this cat-it reads minds." pt 1 (old) 7/3/02 A bit expatriate to go to France of all places over the 4th of July. Some bomb brownies in place of alcohol and a few of my own misshapen thoughts and reveries to be my Sun. As the wide spillage of sky pools outside the airplate windows the thought of a scream plays out in the mushy spot between my ears. This scream is a singular, unexplained echo, chilling the blood in my overworked arteries, turning them to devil's slides of amber icicles. These icicles freeze from dripping to solid ice and my blood stops with them, leaving me with a gutless suffocating fear of death, an eye widened in a super quick rush of adrenaline. The slab of meat in my chest strains against the blocked passageways in its own push for survival. The scream is a bubbling now, boiling in intensity and rumbling through the stovepipes of my stomach, slowly bringing the amber slushy of veins back to warm, then hot, then scalding. My brain rattles and rebounds with the power of the blood, thrust to the shell of skull with what I can only describe as a loud thump. And with this, the scream is born. It rushes from the cavernous stomach like vision might explode in a bat's eye after years of only purplish radar blips. This is how I explain the scream that came flying full tilt out of my '84 BMW's sunroof (a hand crank sunroof, mind you) when I almost collided with the hind end of a very large and unforgiving truck. I had just dropped Julian off at the airport and was heading back onto the 880, rounding a curve and then realizing that traffic was stopped immediately in front of me - forcing the decision to switch lanes or trust the old lass to come through on the brakes ONE LAST TIME. But a quick glance to the side view mirror proves that by God the brakes better work or I am Fucked. This is the part where my blood goes cold. My foot comes down on the brake and a split second releases my AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK the car slowing down, barely, the brake all the way to the floor. But, in that split second of screaming out of the sunroof, I had pushed the brake early enough and the car complies. I doubt I could have hit a stack of ones with that stop, much less any insignificant piece of silver, but it's good enough to bail me out of this one. Have I mentioned that all this is an attempt to make it over the bridge in time for my flight to Charles de Gaulle? I think someone told me once that he was some commander, some victorious French guy. But my common knowledge is going to have to side with rich mogul of some sort of high paying industry or politician. We're talking about an airport here and no commander/military figure is going to have an airport named after him, especially in France. Politician - final answer. (Ed note: Reading this now, knowing he was both, is very humorous.) My fondest memories of French class - interjection here - I've been told that I write fast, but I can only think "not fast enough" for the moments the penstrokes take are like brick walls standing between the writing and the brain. So French class - Power to the People and Madame Tartera... TO BE CONTINUED

Children of Booze

Monday, January 29, 2007

Children of Booze Current mood: peaceful I didn't get around to blogging on Saturday, so this will be a longer one. I'm going to break up topics/days by ********************* so you can skip ahead to other sections if you'd like. Weekend starts Friday night with a few games of Beirut before heading with Julian, Cella and Sean to Ace Wasabi's. Once we get there, I'm pretty good, and in the hour long wait for the table, I get significantly better as Mike plys me with warm sake, which feels warm and kinda like baking bread in my stomach. I know that I should have baked one fewer loaf when I turn to two girls sitting next to us eating, and ask them which was the better portion of the dish they were eating...the avocados or the tomatoes. "Did you say tomatoes?" "yes..." "um, that's tuna..." I know that the sake was too much now because I just mistook a fish for a fruit. I stutter something about apologies, they laugh and tell me that the tuna was the best part of the dish. I hide my head in shame. We get seated and all I remember from dinner is that the philly roll was very good and we drank more sake. I thought about killing Julian because he kept handing me shots, but then realized that sadly, this was my choice and I better suck it up and shoot it. We leave Ace's and I spark a spliff, which is immediately a bad idea. Without my wits about me, and with no one else really paying attention, Julian pulls some trickeration and leads us all to City Tavern. I will say this...That was only the 3rd time this year that I've been there. If I can get away with only going to City Tavern 3 times a month, with two of those times being specifically to pre-party and leave, that's something I can handle. It ends up being a good night all in all as Miller, Wolfklain and others show up to share the festivities. *********************************************** Saturday I wake up and head to an Education Open House at USF for a program that joins a teacher credential with a masters degree. It seems like it might be solid for me, and I'd be able to continue working as I pursued it. I'll have to wait til after Track to think of that though (and track starts this week!!!) Then I hit Nini's for the gauntlet and follow it up with one of the better movies I've seen in at least the last year, if not longer. Children of Men. ************************************************ Now, I've heard some troubling things about Children of Men, namely people I know not thinking it was a very solid movie (Charles, Dawson, Alan obviously excluded)...and I need to wonder if people saw the same thing I did. I'm not going to spoil the movie for those of you that haven't seen it, so don't be afraid to read on. Let's start with the basics...a movie needs to take you to a place, mentally and emotionally. This movie is set in 2027, and while we can't know how realistic the vision portrayed will be, I can tell you that the setting and the way it was shot was incredibly realistic. You could feel the dirt, the blood, and more importantly for this movie, the constant feeling of fear. It would be one thing to fear for the characters, but this movie goes a step further and actually creates fear for the entire human race, not just in the movie, but in our current situations. With the premise the infertility of the entire human race, the movie exams questions of morality, economy, race, gender, ethnicity and faith. Britain has turned into the last superpower on earth, having done so only by eradicating much of civilians' freedoms and placing refugees and illegals into detention centers. This plot line felt like Japanese citizens in WWII, as well as suspiciously like current practices surrounding Muslims in the war on terror. (You're even given a few courtesy shots of British soldiers torturing detainees with Abu Ghraib tactics). You watch it, unsure how much of it could become real, and quite certain that none of it is completely out of the realm of possibility. You watch people, all from very different backgrounds and personal histories viewing the issues of the movie from different perspectives. What tops it all is that the movie doesn't seek to give you answers to these questions, or lead you in any direction. It simply poses them, tells the story and lets you deal with the aftermath. Children of Men is able to boast what only the best science fiction can....the use of futurescapes, projected "history" and a basic future premise to bring to light questions and ideals we must face currently in our culture and world as a whole. If anyone would like to discuss this movie with me, I'd be thrilled. *********************************************** After the movie, I feel like driving off a cliff because I have so much energy and so little hope for the immediate future of our country in the war on terror and other such nonsense. I chuck this feeling out the window and head to the city to meet with Damie, Charles and Brandon. Now, Brandon called me early in the day to ask me to come out for his cousin's birthday party at Cheesecake Factory and then Zebra Lounge. I tell him Cheesecake won't happen, but I'll meet them at the lounge. Luckily, Derek and Mamie's friend Goo is working bar, and he gets us past the line and past the cover charge, VIP style. He then serves us drinks at the upstairs bar where they haven't allowed people into yet. We're running the place, make no mistake. The crowd starts to pick up, the music as well, and before you know it, the upstairs looks like a cross between a high school dance, a college frat party and a Wild 94.9 street party. As I'm leaving the bathroom, Brandon calls me to tell me that there's a cover, they're not going there anymore, and can I meet him outside...I do, we hit a spliff around the corner (with cops EVERYWHERE), say hello to Zeke who's with him and then head back in. He heads back to his party at Velvet Lounge, nevermind the fact that I came out and sold everyone on the Zebra lounge idea because he was going to be there! We party some more in Zebra, get a few more cheap to free drinks and decide to head over to Velvet to hang out with Brandon and his crew. We make our way down to the front, get outside, and as we hit the sidewalk, Brandon calls to ask if Goo can hook his cousin up with free drinks at Zebra. I say, um, yea, he would have, but we're on our way to Velvet to see you guys. At which point he tells me that he and Zeke are on the way home already, and his cousin and her friends didn't like Velvet and had gone to Zebra. Now knowing that we're not tied to Brandon anymore, we decide to meet up with some of Mamie's friends at Fiddler's Green, which I had been to once before. For those that don't know, it's a very random place where the downstairs is a little quiet, live band, some dancing, bar and about 62 degrees. The upstairs is a packed dance floor bumping dj spun hip hop music that runs somewhere around tropical. Mamie, in typical fashion, has very attractive friends...we smoke more, drink long islands and take pictures with my camera (all of them up in the profile now) until it's time to go. At this point, we're in North Beach, around 2 am, and who's gonna find a cab? I do. I call Maurod the cabbie, and I'm not sure if I mentioned him previously, but believe I did in another blog. I get him on the phone, tell him where we are, and he says he'll be there in 5. He drives up, and Maurod is the baddest ass cabbie you've ever met. First he kicks a couple out of the cab because he was coming for us...(that feels VIP...sorry, that's MY cab you're in buddy!) and then we're two minutes in the drive and he says, "something smells good back there." I know what he's referring to, so I ask him if I should spark it, "yea, yea, spark it!" So here we are, Charles, Damie and myself, rolling with Maurod the French Cabbie through North Beach and downtown, blowing trees and listening to french hip hop. That's how we do it. He drops us off at Vic's where we meet up with Vic, his girlfriend, Alan, Simon and the rest of the Jewish Russian Mafia. Alan pours vodka shots down Charles throat until, at around 2:30, it's time to go and Charles can't get off the bathroom floor where he's made new friends with Phil's toilet bowl. This is where we leave him as Damie give me a cab ride to where I need to go. So there you have it...the weekend in all its gruesome glory. Don't get it twisted, unless, of course, you're trying to twist one up.

Anatomy of a Rape (Duke Lacrosse Players, Pt2)

Wednesday, January 24, 2007

Anatomy of a Rape (Duke Lacrosse Players Pt 2) Current mood: Right Back in April, I posted a blog (Duke Lacrosse Players, April 19, 2006) about what was going on and how it seemed a little strange how quickly everyone in the country jumped on the bandwagon in being absolutely positive that a heinous rape had occurred in North Carolina. As background: This rape was allegedly perpetrated by multiple members of the Duke Men's Lacrosse team on an exotic dancer that had performed at a party. Following the allegations, the firebrand speeches of Mike Nifong, the District Attorney in the case, brought the community in and around Duke to a fever pitch that resulted in demonstrations, racial divides and eventually grand jury indictments on rape, sexual assault and kidnapping charges against several players. These problems were amplified by the fact that there was continuous tension already between a rich, predominately white university that sat adjacent to a poor, mostly black community. In the months that have passed since, the case has fallen apart. The accuser changed parts of her story, all the DNA evidence came back negative and Mike Nifong is now facing charges himself that he hid evidence and made false statements in court about the case. As for the accuser...she had multiple different dna samples collected from her...none of them matched the team members she accused, nor any of the 46 players on the team. While the headlines about the rape and the indicted players splashed nationally, the only place I noticed an article about the DA getting charged was on ESPN. All the coverage created the damage, but once the case wasn't sensational anymore, the media dropped it, and for the school, lacrosse program, and the men charged, the damage has been done already. I noticed in the ESPN article a list of links to all of the articles that had been written about the case since the beginning. I was hoping the links would translate here, but they came out as text so you won't be able to read the full articles. However, read the arc of the headlines from start to finish, and you'll notice that not only were they not considered innocent until proven guilty, but a lot was destroyed in the process. Here is the link to the page with the list of links in case you actually want to read all of them. I will say that there's some mention in the final lines of the first blog where I mention the separation between church and state. You can ignore that line...on rereading the blog I realized that that had absolutely nothing to do with the case at hand, I was just off on a rant I guess. I'm glad to say that as the initial blog on this subject proves...for me on this story, hindsight wasn't 20/20...foresight was. Nifong...I wish I could have told you so. http://sports.espn.go.com/ncaa/news/story?id=2740966 Related Stories March '06: .. Coach resigns, season canceled .. Garber: Campus, community in turmoil April 06: .. Duke accuser involved in prior rape allegation .. Second dancer tells her story .. Alumni question Duke president on player suspensions .. Scoop Jackson: Blame administration .. Duke to keep selling lacrosse gear .. Background on Finnerty, Seligmann .. Two Duke players indicted .. Race a focal point in Durham .. Police: Accuser 'passed-out drunk' .. Whitlock: Men behaving badlyMay 06: .. Sweatbands of support: Duke women show solidarity .. Lawyers ask for more evidence .. Judge won't fast-track trial .. One of team's captains indicted .. Defense: DNA tests clear Duke lacrosse players .. Talks of accuser's credibility overheard .. Duke report: Police downplayed accuser .. DA wins Democratic primary .. Committee: Team can resume play, with monitoring June 06: .. Parents of Duke player say son can prove innocence .. Duke player reinstated .. Evans guilty of noise violation .. Police report: Duke accuser nervous, changed story .. Pessah: Team life after scandal .. Recruits: Staying Going .. Coach K breaks silence .. Defense questions DA's comments .. Duke professor calls for special prosecutor .. Second dancer calls allegations a 'crock' .. Interim coach ready .. Duke reinstates lacrosse team under watchful eye .. Almost $23K spent on DNA tests July: .. Duke hires Hofstra's Danowski as men's lax coach .. Judge: Prosecutor has access to uncharged players' addresses .. D.A. seeks access to uncharged players' ID cards August 06: .. AD: School 'will be better' .. Write-in campaign launched against prosecutor .. Former Duke coach hired by Bryant .. Duke player pleads guilty to DUI charge September .. D.A.: Assault lasted 5-10 minutes .. Duke reinstates exotic dancer ban .. D.A. asks judge to stop polling .. Duke holds private pep-talk for athletes .. Duke lacrosse returns to the field .. Judge to bar cameras from hearings October: .. Dancer: Duke rape accuser said to 'put marks on me' .. D.A. hasn't discussed case with accuser .. Duke lax coach: Players may return if exonerated .. Accused players thought DNA testing would end case .. Accused players, second dancer speak out .. Duke attorneys again ask for statements .. Duke lacrosse team back on field for charity event December: .. N.C. State Bar files complaint against prosecutor .. D.A. drops rape charges .. Legal experts: Why the remaining charges? .. Judge OKs paternity tests .. Report: Accuser is pregnant .. Defense attorneys: No Duke players' DNA found on woman .. Justice Department asked to investigate Duke case January: .. Nifong faces more ethics charges from state bar .. Nifong gets extension to answer complaint .. NAACP asks for thorough exam of case .. Prosecutor's future uncertain .. Attorney general takes over .. Prosecutor asks off case .. Defense: Accuser said one player just watched .. Judge orders paternity test .. Duke prez defends decision .. Ex-player sues over failing grade .. Lawyer: Players invited back to class

... (old)

Monday, January 22, 2007

...(old) Hmm...must get a title for this one. Sing it and swing it, From the jazzy guitar to the wailing trumpet, Wailing like a mad ass breeze on the 5, desolate wastelands and the Hope of more to come, just like it to leave the driving brainless and numbing, But fun for fumbing, and succumbing, I guess , To some weird wish to be alone in all of it, but surrounded with the sweet jazz. Liza's gone now, and some boxes of interstate and other things whoosh by, Or maybe they don't whoosh, But kind of fall behind, Like a lost minute I was thinking of this morning. It was in between a girl and I, It was where love fell an inch short, And I lost time. I lost a single minute of life, and it was sudden. The thin line between love and hate is a misnomer. It's the thin line between love and ex that's a kicker. Funny too, because the leap up is big. Possibly the one moment you can never lose. The biggest gap on the way up, and nothing on the way down. And then you fizzle. But with best friends, it's the opposite. You'll never remember the moment you became family to each other, because it's been there most of what you can remember. I've never had it happen, and hopefully I never will. I guess it can disappear, and when it reappears, it'll be there like it's always been. Like this guy I know. I didn't really know this guy, but what I did know of him, I didn't like. He was this lanky kid. Apparently, and without me knowing it, he had hated me for a number of years before I had hated him. I hooked up with his girlfriend. I didn't do it because I disliked him, but just because it was fun. It was hooking up. I didn't think he'd mind, it was 7th grade, or no, maybe 8th. At any rate, he took it as a personal affront. I hadn't meant it as a slap in the face, but some people take things different ways. Like Andy says, "If a girl will cheat on her boyfriend, he's not doing a very good job." A poor ideal, I think….but why does it sound so true? Cloud ballerina dancing over pearly white waves on the edge of the horizon, Flowery hand outstretched and a trail of sooty, Dark Clouds, Her exhauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuust. That's fucking annoying isn't it…a stuck u button on your keyboard. But she's almost dissipated now, our ballerina, Gone in the struggling moments, and a failing u. But she gives way to a ying yang with crow's faces, the beaks as the opposing colors, with the eyes inset. And the sky leaking a thick paste of orange against cerulean, And a dismal coyote/roadrunner/wren alighting from the gray and floating closer, Faster, against the rest. Run coyote/roadrunner/wren, run like hell. Before your run ends, too. Now, I'm not sure about this one. It could either be a marathon racer, diving across the rope, Or the rope, In suspended boomerang fashion, Pulls her back to her partner, head thrown back in what must have been, At one point, the runners haze. Hmm…kinda rambly, kinda hazy, kinda happy, or sad, or melancholy. All juiced into one session of… Ah, yes. Cloud Watching, Or the funny feeling of doing it, Going home, or whatever else it takes you to fill a couple minute here and there, but really all is action because even sleeping, I'm doing. Get your head out of the futter! Doing this and that. If you were to die right now, would you rather be doing this… Or that? I think rather that, but are both an answer? Could you potentially be doing this AND that at the time of your demise? I hope so. This would give a nice maximum type of efficiency To end all efficiency. Like a certain group of born again pagans. They get to be pagan and born again their whole lives. Talk about some efficiency! But no, really… Cloud Watching August, 2001

New Blogs, Old Writings

New Blogs, Old Writings
Current mood: curious

I found an external hardrive of my dad's the other day that had a ton of old writings from years ago. I'll be posting them, serial novel style in blogs. I'll denote the old ones by putting (old) in the title so you don't have to waste your time opening them if you're only interested in the new stuff. Cheers.