Looking for hours of internet fun? There's this pointless, but addictively fun game I discovered a number of years ago called Lemonade Stand. Yeah, creative name. But, you can play it for free online. Click here for it.
You get to decide how much lemon to put in each cup of lemonade, and how much ice and sugar you put in each cup. You also have to balance the price of the lemonade with the temperature. It may sound lame, but it's a fun game. And, it's a nice li'l lesson in the basics of economics.
I'm a nerd, ok?
Friday, September 30, 2005
Thursday, September 29, 2005
traffic schmaffic
Upon first moving to Los Angeles, one thing that struck me was the local attitude about traffic. Most complained about it being the worst in the world, and they hated driving anywhere. True, there are a lot of cars on the road. And, I suppose some people consistently get stuck in traffic on their work commutes. I, however, never really encountered bad traffic.
Except once.
I used to work late hours at Universal, and I was sometimes exhausted in the summer schedule, getting home at 1 or 2 in the morning. On one such morning, I was not feeling particularly "up to speed." When I got home from work, I lugged my achey body upstairs to the bedroom, and took a hefty chug of nighttime cold medicine. If you know anything about nighttime cold medicine, you know that it pretty much knocks you unconscience for at least eight solid hours. So, after my medicinal dose, I laid my frail body down on my wonderful soft bed. I drifted away into a blissful drug-induced sleep, and it was beautiful.
In the early morning hours, before the world is awake, around 5:30 or 6:00, I have a vague and dream-like recollection of my roommate Doug barging into our shared bedroom. Being halfway in another deminsion, I can barely recall him frantically explaining to me that he had driven our mutual roommate, Andy, to the Burbank airport. Andy was supposed to leave that day to get home to his family for a week or so. Doug explained that they had gotten their a couple minutes late, so Andy's seat on the flight had been given away. If you're familiar with Los Angeles airport ritual, it should come as no surprise. So, in desperation, Doug asked me if I could go get Andy from the airport.
Groggily turning my cell phone on, I heard about three desperate messages from Andy, at the airport, explaining how everyone else he knew was either out of town, or at work. So, I was the only human on the earth who was available to come get him at the airport. Laying in my warm fuzzy bed, in the dark hours of the early morning, exhausted and sedated on cold medicine, I reluctantly agreed to come get him at the airport.
Dragging my bones out of the sheets, I drearily clothed myself and draped a hat over my messy head. I couldn't believe I was awake, much less driving to the airport! The Burbank airport was a good fifteen to twenty minutes away. I drove their in the cool morning air, meeting a grateful Andy at the airport pick-up place. Climbing into the hatchback, he explained that the airport explained to him that there was one chance for him to catch a flight. In two hours, a flight to Seattle was leaving,...in Orange County.
Orange County is a solid 45 minute drive, through the heart of Los Angeles morning rush hour traffic. But, out of love and devotion to my roommate, I did it. I drove there. And 45 minutes back, which actually took nearly two hours because of the traffic. I mean, it was like a parking lot driving up the 405. It could've been the 101. They were both terrible that morning.
But, Andy made his flight. We were both thankful for that.
When I got back to the apartment, I crashed happily on my bed and sank back into my slumber.
Except once.
I used to work late hours at Universal, and I was sometimes exhausted in the summer schedule, getting home at 1 or 2 in the morning. On one such morning, I was not feeling particularly "up to speed." When I got home from work, I lugged my achey body upstairs to the bedroom, and took a hefty chug of nighttime cold medicine. If you know anything about nighttime cold medicine, you know that it pretty much knocks you unconscience for at least eight solid hours. So, after my medicinal dose, I laid my frail body down on my wonderful soft bed. I drifted away into a blissful drug-induced sleep, and it was beautiful.
In the early morning hours, before the world is awake, around 5:30 or 6:00, I have a vague and dream-like recollection of my roommate Doug barging into our shared bedroom. Being halfway in another deminsion, I can barely recall him frantically explaining to me that he had driven our mutual roommate, Andy, to the Burbank airport. Andy was supposed to leave that day to get home to his family for a week or so. Doug explained that they had gotten their a couple minutes late, so Andy's seat on the flight had been given away. If you're familiar with Los Angeles airport ritual, it should come as no surprise. So, in desperation, Doug asked me if I could go get Andy from the airport.
Groggily turning my cell phone on, I heard about three desperate messages from Andy, at the airport, explaining how everyone else he knew was either out of town, or at work. So, I was the only human on the earth who was available to come get him at the airport. Laying in my warm fuzzy bed, in the dark hours of the early morning, exhausted and sedated on cold medicine, I reluctantly agreed to come get him at the airport.
Dragging my bones out of the sheets, I drearily clothed myself and draped a hat over my messy head. I couldn't believe I was awake, much less driving to the airport! The Burbank airport was a good fifteen to twenty minutes away. I drove their in the cool morning air, meeting a grateful Andy at the airport pick-up place. Climbing into the hatchback, he explained that the airport explained to him that there was one chance for him to catch a flight. In two hours, a flight to Seattle was leaving,...in Orange County.
Orange County is a solid 45 minute drive, through the heart of Los Angeles morning rush hour traffic. But, out of love and devotion to my roommate, I did it. I drove there. And 45 minutes back, which actually took nearly two hours because of the traffic. I mean, it was like a parking lot driving up the 405. It could've been the 101. They were both terrible that morning.
But, Andy made his flight. We were both thankful for that.
When I got back to the apartment, I crashed happily on my bed and sank back into my slumber.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
The Cabinet of Dr.Caligari
I wanted to take an opportunity to tell everyone about my friend Doug's upcoming project. It's one that I'm excited about, and it looks very interesting. Doug is excited about it.
I remember Doug telling me about this projecet repeatedly, because he knows I like campy horror. Only, this horror film is darker, and cooler than the typical 80s camp I rave about. It's called The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, and it is a moderately budgeted independent film. It is a remake of a thirties horror film. ( At least, I think it's the thirties.) They used some of the original footage juxtaposed with modern imagery to create a clean, glossy, yet classic looking scenerio.
Doug plays a sideshow psychic named Cesare. You can check out the film's official web page here. It's a highly technical page, so it may take a minute to load. But, it looks really cool.
The film opens in mid-October. I'm not sure if it will hit every major cineplex, but if you keep your eyes open, you may get lucky. I wish I could've been in L.A. for the premiere, but that's just how the proverbial cookie crumbles. Apparently, this film has gotten a lot of buzz from the German independent film crowd, as well as American horror fans. It's been nominated for some Screamfest awards. i don't know if it will be good or not, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed.
I love Doug Jones! He also has a pretty cool web page here. There is much love to go around, my friend.
Monday, September 26, 2005
Sequoyah
Yesterday I went on a therapeutic excursion with my parents to the Sequoyah Birthplace Museum. It was surprisingly educational. Sometimes my level of ignorance astounds me.
For example, did you know when Andrew Jackson ran for President, one of his policies was "Indian Removal"? Yep. He was a self-proclaimed "Indian hater." That began what became the Trail of Tears. The Native Americans were forced from their homes in Tennessee, Georgia, and a few other states in the southeast. Later, when Martin Van Buren became President, he attempted to extend the deadline for Indian Removal, to give Cherokees and others more time to relocate. The state of Georgia revolted, claiming infringement of states' rights. So, the plan continued.
Around the same vague couple of decades, Sequoyah worked hard on his Cherokee alphabet system. After about twelve years of tweaking and working, he finally had a completed system. He was nationally revered, and honored for his achievement. It was an amazing accomplishment creating the only original Native American written language. Cherokee newspapers were then published, and the Cherokees became literate in a relatively short amount of time.
But enough of my community college lecture. I thought these findings were fascinating. We walked into the museum entrance, located in Vonore, Tennessee. It was a beautiful setting, green hilly fields surrounded by trees and water. it was also a crisp day, with the first traces of autumn setting in. Some of the trees had just a twinge of color in the leaves. The museum itself was only three dollars per person, but the budget of this place was obviously very low. They had these "listening Phones", where you could push a button. Then, these little hand-held speaker phone thingys would crackle to life, and a somber-sounding narrator would tell an old Cherokee folk tale. These listening phone things were obviously early 70's era, which added to the hilarity.
After that, we went to a nearby park. It was amazing, and we walked four or five miles on a "Meadow Loop" trail, through woods, and a field. We saw several deer, and my Mom complained about the length of the trail. We were walking next to the lake, and it was so peaceful.
These are things that make me appreciate East Tennessee.
For example, did you know when Andrew Jackson ran for President, one of his policies was "Indian Removal"? Yep. He was a self-proclaimed "Indian hater." That began what became the Trail of Tears. The Native Americans were forced from their homes in Tennessee, Georgia, and a few other states in the southeast. Later, when Martin Van Buren became President, he attempted to extend the deadline for Indian Removal, to give Cherokees and others more time to relocate. The state of Georgia revolted, claiming infringement of states' rights. So, the plan continued.
Around the same vague couple of decades, Sequoyah worked hard on his Cherokee alphabet system. After about twelve years of tweaking and working, he finally had a completed system. He was nationally revered, and honored for his achievement. It was an amazing accomplishment creating the only original Native American written language. Cherokee newspapers were then published, and the Cherokees became literate in a relatively short amount of time.
But enough of my community college lecture. I thought these findings were fascinating. We walked into the museum entrance, located in Vonore, Tennessee. It was a beautiful setting, green hilly fields surrounded by trees and water. it was also a crisp day, with the first traces of autumn setting in. Some of the trees had just a twinge of color in the leaves. The museum itself was only three dollars per person, but the budget of this place was obviously very low. They had these "listening Phones", where you could push a button. Then, these little hand-held speaker phone thingys would crackle to life, and a somber-sounding narrator would tell an old Cherokee folk tale. These listening phone things were obviously early 70's era, which added to the hilarity.
After that, we went to a nearby park. It was amazing, and we walked four or five miles on a "Meadow Loop" trail, through woods, and a field. We saw several deer, and my Mom complained about the length of the trail. We were walking next to the lake, and it was so peaceful.
These are things that make me appreciate East Tennessee.
Saturday, September 24, 2005
poet?
I'm not much of a "poet", if you will, but I sure give it the 'ol heave ho. So, here is a poem from my heart. I hope this can express my feelings accurately.
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
true friends are special,
and sometimes I want to run through the streets screaming and bust out a window with a brick I happen to find laying on the ground. That way, the cops will peel up in their cruisers or whatnot, and shout at me through their megaphones to drop down on the ground. Then, they'll run up on me, take me down to the ground, and cuff me while digging their knee into my back. Then, I can spend the night in jail and make one phone call to my mommy as I blubber like an idiot over the phone reciever like a 6 year old girl.
the end
Roses are red,
violets are blue,
true friends are special,
and sometimes I want to run through the streets screaming and bust out a window with a brick I happen to find laying on the ground. That way, the cops will peel up in their cruisers or whatnot, and shout at me through their megaphones to drop down on the ground. Then, they'll run up on me, take me down to the ground, and cuff me while digging their knee into my back. Then, I can spend the night in jail and make one phone call to my mommy as I blubber like an idiot over the phone reciever like a 6 year old girl.
the end
Friday, September 23, 2005
smoothie heaven
Occassionally, I crave a good 'ol fashioned smoothie from Jamba Juice.
My love affair with smoothies dates back before I moved to California. I used to get them at this place called Smoothie King. They weren't bad, but at the time they had problems I didn't recognize. They were chalky, and overpriced. Smoothie King is the kind of place that's designed for muscle heads. (Imagine a Schwarzenegger-type with the I.Q. of Frankenstein walking in, "I gots to get smoothie after workout! RAAAGH!!") They have things like protein wafers and multi-vitamin cookies. These are things that do not occur in nature, so they weird me out.
Well, when I first got to L.A., I gave Jamba Juice a "whirl", if you will. To my surprise, their smoothies were cheaper, and the quality was better. Finally! I could get a strawberry-banana-cherry razzle dazzle with an extra shot of vitamins at an affordable price!
Some people got shots of wheatgrass "on the side", with their smoothies. Huh? "Shot of wheatgrass"? Since when did drinking grass become healthy? In Tennessee, I can walk out in a cow field after a light rain and get a shot of wheat grass. And, I save 3 dollars.
And, if you're not careful, your smoothie can quickly get expensive, even at Jamba Juice. With so many additives and "special features", you can tack on an extra two dollars. Of course, the up side is, you won't have to eat again for the rest of the day.
My love affair with smoothies dates back before I moved to California. I used to get them at this place called Smoothie King. They weren't bad, but at the time they had problems I didn't recognize. They were chalky, and overpriced. Smoothie King is the kind of place that's designed for muscle heads. (Imagine a Schwarzenegger-type with the I.Q. of Frankenstein walking in, "I gots to get smoothie after workout! RAAAGH!!") They have things like protein wafers and multi-vitamin cookies. These are things that do not occur in nature, so they weird me out.
Well, when I first got to L.A., I gave Jamba Juice a "whirl", if you will. To my surprise, their smoothies were cheaper, and the quality was better. Finally! I could get a strawberry-banana-cherry razzle dazzle with an extra shot of vitamins at an affordable price!
Some people got shots of wheatgrass "on the side", with their smoothies. Huh? "Shot of wheatgrass"? Since when did drinking grass become healthy? In Tennessee, I can walk out in a cow field after a light rain and get a shot of wheat grass. And, I save 3 dollars.
And, if you're not careful, your smoothie can quickly get expensive, even at Jamba Juice. With so many additives and "special features", you can tack on an extra two dollars. Of course, the up side is, you won't have to eat again for the rest of the day.
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Tim Burton
I have been a Tim Burton fan for many years. Even before I pinpointed the director's work, I was a fan. It wasn't until I was thirteen or fourteen years old until I began to put the puzzle pieces together. I thought, "I love Batman. I love Edward Scissorhands. I love Beetlejuice. I love Pee Wee's Big Adventure. And now, I love The Nightmare Before Christmas. And, they were all directd by the same guy!" (Tim Burton turned directing duties over to Henry Selick on The Nightmare Before Christmas, but you get the idea.)
I saw The Nightmare Before Christmas when it first hit theatres. I remember being enchanted with the stop-motion animation visuals. At the time, the music was actually an added irritation. However, I have grown to love the music almost more than the film itself. To date, I feel it is the most distinct "Tim Burton" stylized film.
Also, one of my favorite films is Ed Wood. It amazes me that this has been so overlooked over the years. It's an oustanding cast, featuring Johnny Depp, Bill Murray, Sarah Jessica Parker, and Martin Landau. And who can forget the director/producer, Tim Burton?
This weekend, the latest Tim Burton "masterpiece" shall be unveiled! Corpse Bride has already opened in theatres in L.A. and New York. But, the world shall be exposed to this delight soon enough! The official web site is really breathtaking. Take a look here!
Early Prediction for Corpse Bride
the down side:
I have varied expectations for Corpse Bride. While I do know that I will love the style, look, and music, I think we're all familiar enough with Tim Burton's work to know what to expect. My fear is that the story itself may be a little flat.
the up side:
The trailer is breathtaking nonetheless. Burton still bursts with imaginative surprises. When you think he may take a familiar route, he spins it with enough originality to please the brain. Case in point, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Who can resist the mix of modern computer technology and the stop-motion animation of the old-skool? Not me!
Overall, I think Tim Burton will add enough original spice to Corpse Bride to make it a winner. By the same token, if he relies to heavily on old formulas, it may be too predictable and simply a rehash of his earlier work.
Click here for a cool Tim Burton web site.
Click here for the Official Corpse Bride web site.
Visit Corpse Bride here on rotten tomatoes to learn more about it!
Monday, September 19, 2005
rainbow gathering
When I worked at Universal, I had the pleasure of working with a delightful young man named Travis. Once, Travis told me of a magical experience he had with a group called the Rainbow Gathering. He described it as a group of people "out in the woods" singing, playing music, dancing to tribal drums, eating, and becoming one with the universe, or something. He spent the night there at the Rainbow Gathering. Then, he hitched a ride with total strangers in a Volkswagen up to Idaho, (wish I could make this stuff up) to another Rainbow Gathering. He stayed, partied (or something), and stayed with some random person on their farm. He had to hitch a ride to a local town, and ended up hitching a ride back home, like 8 hours away.
I did some research on the Rainbow Gathering, and found that they're quite active. I can't believe I was blissfully unaware that this group existed. It seems like a story you would see on Nightline, or 20/20.
It's oddly inspiring to me that there are people in this country who don't have jobs because they travel around in the woods with groups of hippies. Sure, you can call them names if you want. "Hippie", "bum", "druggie" come to mind. Sure, these names are all completely acurate. But, it's still inspiring. I guess the hippie ways of existence are deeply romanticized, and reminiscent of a time that existed before I was born. These hippie images seem surreal, and I can't believe hippies really existed in the 60's and 70's. Woodstock has been promoted, at least in my mind, to mythical status. So, to see that people still believe in that hippie dream is inspiring. (However, the cold hard truth is that they probably just want to do drugs in the woods.) But, the idea is romantic. I mean, the hippie part, not the drugs.
Here is a fairly thorough site on the Rainbow Gathering.
Sunday, September 18, 2005
a 10
Ok, so a lot of people don't know this, but I'm a model. I've been modeling for three years now, for a modeling agency called "Eyeem Laubyujett", after the French designer who owns the company. I do ads for mittens, time share resorts in Florida, and ketchup. Most of the ads run in Japan, so I'm not very big here in the states. But, I've gained quite a following over there.
Okay, none of that is true. But, you should go to a self-indulgent site called "hot or not", and rate me a 10. Why? Because of the inner beauty.
Click here and click "10". I also added a link down at the "Links" section to your left. So, you can come back to my blog and click "10" frequently. Hey, I'm shameless.
Okay, none of that is true. But, you should go to a self-indulgent site called "hot or not", and rate me a 10. Why? Because of the inner beauty.
Click here and click "10". I also added a link down at the "Links" section to your left. So, you can come back to my blog and click "10" frequently. Hey, I'm shameless.
Saturday, September 17, 2005
2005 Emmys
Has it really been a year? It may seem to early for me to start regurgitating old blog "material". However, one of my first blog entries was a story about working at the HBO Emmy party last year. I got hooked up with a catering company that had the lofty task of catering to all the "important" Hollywood hobnobbers at the 2004 HBO Emmy party. I rubbed shoulders (almost literally) with many of my favorite celebrities. You can ready my original blog entry on this subject by clicking here.
This year I'll be watching the festivities from many many miles away, in East Tennessee. It's strange to think I was actually there! HBO dominated the Emmys last year, with "cutting edge" (consorship free) programming. I don't really get into any of the HBO shows because they're a little "much" for me. I don't normally like my TV as intense as the Sopranos. But, to each his own.
The Emmys for this year airs tommorow night, and I'll probably tune in. I may switch back and forth between that and some other prime time schlock.
Click here for the official Emmys web site.
This year I'll be watching the festivities from many many miles away, in East Tennessee. It's strange to think I was actually there! HBO dominated the Emmys last year, with "cutting edge" (consorship free) programming. I don't really get into any of the HBO shows because they're a little "much" for me. I don't normally like my TV as intense as the Sopranos. But, to each his own.
The Emmys for this year airs tommorow night, and I'll probably tune in. I may switch back and forth between that and some other prime time schlock.
Click here for the official Emmys web site.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
speak up!
Have any of you seen the movie Fever Pitch? I saw it when it first came out. I was reluctuant, of course, but it ended up being surprisingly entertaining. There's enough testosterone-fueled baseball fandom to keep most men involved. Yet, of course, there is the Drew Barrymore aspect. While being somewhat of a chick flick, it is still terrific. It came out on DVD this week, and it's worth checking out.
Otherwise, I thoroughly washed up my car today. It was filthy, and needed a good overhaul. It feels like a new car! Except, it's a new car with 180,000 miles on it.
Seen any good movies lately? Email me a movie review, and I just may post it on my site! I'm always on the lookout for other people's opinions. Heck, it doesn't even have to be movies. Music, tv shows, something that happened in the news. As long as it's a critical review format, I'll be happy to accept it. I created a new email to accept your submissions!
evansblog@bluebottle.com
Otherwise, I thoroughly washed up my car today. It was filthy, and needed a good overhaul. It feels like a new car! Except, it's a new car with 180,000 miles on it.
Seen any good movies lately? Email me a movie review, and I just may post it on my site! I'm always on the lookout for other people's opinions. Heck, it doesn't even have to be movies. Music, tv shows, something that happened in the news. As long as it's a critical review format, I'll be happy to accept it. I created a new email to accept your submissions!
evansblog@bluebottle.com
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
walk the line
Joaquin Phoenix plays Johnny Cash in the upcoming November film release of Walk the Line. I've seen the trailer, which you can download for free here at trailerdownload.net. I've also seen the trailer a time or two on the big screen.
I don't want to review a movie before I've even seen it, but I just have serious doubts about it. I mean, Jamie Foxx seemed so comfortable in the skin of Ray Charles in Ray. That performance felt truly inspired. I feel like Joaquin seems a bit uncertain and uncomfortable in the skin of the Man in Black. In some scenes, I think he looks more like Bruce Campbell than Johnny Cash. And, his "Johnny" singing? I don't know. I'm just not convinced. His voice seems thin and unsure. Maybe I'll feel different when I see the entire film in context. But, I just get a feeling about it being...well, not Ray. (the obvious comparison). As for writing and directing, we'll see when this bad boy hits theatres.
A correction from the other day: The David Spade show is on Comedy Central, not VH-1. I think I saw a commercial on VH-1, and it confused my delicate and convoluted mind.
Johnny Cash on allmusic.com.
Reviews, opinions, movie info, and predictions for Walk the Line at rottentomatoes.com
Monday, September 12, 2005
adding to the noise
Congratulations To George Jones, who turns 74 years old today. I wrote a blog about him earlier this year that sums up how I feel about him, and his legacy. Click here for it.
Everyone reading this has a bit of homework to do. But, don't worry. It won't require you to "read" some boring book with no pictures. All you have to do is watch television! David Spade has a new television show premiering thursday on VH-1. Oddly, I couldn't find anything on the VH-1 site about the show. But, maybe you'll have better luck than I did browsing the site. I think the show looks like a terrific and hilarious jab at Hollywood self-promoting narcissism. For you fans of shows like "Best Week Ever", or "I Love the 80's", it will be along those lines. Only, I predict it will be better.
And, while I've got your attention: You may be expecting me to comment on the tragedy on hurricane Katrina. Well, I think the news media has pretty well covered it. Do I need to add to the white noise? Besides, I may be going down there later this month to help out with getting people food and whatnot. So, I'll definitely blog on that later, if it happens.
Everyone reading this has a bit of homework to do. But, don't worry. It won't require you to "read" some boring book with no pictures. All you have to do is watch television! David Spade has a new television show premiering thursday on VH-1. Oddly, I couldn't find anything on the VH-1 site about the show. But, maybe you'll have better luck than I did browsing the site. I think the show looks like a terrific and hilarious jab at Hollywood self-promoting narcissism. For you fans of shows like "Best Week Ever", or "I Love the 80's", it will be along those lines. Only, I predict it will be better.
And, while I've got your attention: You may be expecting me to comment on the tragedy on hurricane Katrina. Well, I think the news media has pretty well covered it. Do I need to add to the white noise? Besides, I may be going down there later this month to help out with getting people food and whatnot. So, I'll definitely blog on that later, if it happens.
Monday, September 05, 2005
destiny
Lately I've been going through a crisis of identity. I've been trying to choose a career path I can live with. And, something I can be successful with in the long run.
Today I was in a store that has all manner of bizarre "knick knacks" of technology. I came across this Los Angeles guide booklet, and I couldn't resist. I had to check it out. So, I picked up the pocket sized guide and began thumbing through it. There was a fold out map of the old stomping grounds. I reminisced in my mind the memories of old as I was bombarded with those old familiar boulevard names. Then, in the "things to do" section, I stumbled across a blurb describing the Groundlings Theatre. Of all the random sites and attractions, The Groundlings Theatre was one of the few sites listed to "must see." The blurb described the Theatre as "A training ground for 'out there' comedy performers. (SNL alumni, Pee Wee Herman.)" Hm. Snl alumni. Pee Wee Herman. Hilarious. I guess "out there" describes my style pretty well. I laughed in the store, reading this, and seeing the little red square on the map where the Theatre resides. Was I really there? Or, was it all a dream? We don't know.
So, tonight I was browsing through the Groundlings web site, which is not too shabby. I saw pictures of my old Groundlings teachers in sketches. There were a couple of pics of one of my old teachers in this sketch with Chris Parnell from SNL. I kind of took a joy in that. You know, knowing that this one guy went on to be relatively platinum in the comedy world, while my putz teacher stayed behind for a number of years teaching classes, continuing to struggle. That teacher was kind of putzy. Am I a jerk or what? Maybe there's bitterness in my heart.
I also saw a big picture of Amoeba Music in the guide, one of my favorite places. All my fav museums were listed, such as The Getty, which is fantastic.
I also got an email a few days ago from a friend of mine in L.A., Doug Jones. He was describing his latest actor enterprises. Yet more traces of a former life.
What's the deal? Why do I miss that chapter in my life? It was a crazy cool adventure. In fact, this very blog you're reading, dear reader, began as my chronicles of the enchanted land of L.A. I have since drifted from that theme into other realms. For example, how boring my life now is. I still harbor bitterness for the weird turn my life has taken here in East Tennessee. I struggle to stay optimistic and continue to count my blessings. Does the grass always have to seem greener on the other side? Am I destined to dissatisfaction? I hope not.
Groundlings Theatre
Today I was in a store that has all manner of bizarre "knick knacks" of technology. I came across this Los Angeles guide booklet, and I couldn't resist. I had to check it out. So, I picked up the pocket sized guide and began thumbing through it. There was a fold out map of the old stomping grounds. I reminisced in my mind the memories of old as I was bombarded with those old familiar boulevard names. Then, in the "things to do" section, I stumbled across a blurb describing the Groundlings Theatre. Of all the random sites and attractions, The Groundlings Theatre was one of the few sites listed to "must see." The blurb described the Theatre as "A training ground for 'out there' comedy performers. (SNL alumni, Pee Wee Herman.)" Hm. Snl alumni. Pee Wee Herman. Hilarious. I guess "out there" describes my style pretty well. I laughed in the store, reading this, and seeing the little red square on the map where the Theatre resides. Was I really there? Or, was it all a dream? We don't know.
So, tonight I was browsing through the Groundlings web site, which is not too shabby. I saw pictures of my old Groundlings teachers in sketches. There were a couple of pics of one of my old teachers in this sketch with Chris Parnell from SNL. I kind of took a joy in that. You know, knowing that this one guy went on to be relatively platinum in the comedy world, while my putz teacher stayed behind for a number of years teaching classes, continuing to struggle. That teacher was kind of putzy. Am I a jerk or what? Maybe there's bitterness in my heart.
I also saw a big picture of Amoeba Music in the guide, one of my favorite places. All my fav museums were listed, such as The Getty, which is fantastic.
I also got an email a few days ago from a friend of mine in L.A., Doug Jones. He was describing his latest actor enterprises. Yet more traces of a former life.
What's the deal? Why do I miss that chapter in my life? It was a crazy cool adventure. In fact, this very blog you're reading, dear reader, began as my chronicles of the enchanted land of L.A. I have since drifted from that theme into other realms. For example, how boring my life now is. I still harbor bitterness for the weird turn my life has taken here in East Tennessee. I struggle to stay optimistic and continue to count my blessings. Does the grass always have to seem greener on the other side? Am I destined to dissatisfaction? I hope not.
Groundlings Theatre
Sunday, September 04, 2005
wretched tree of death
Yesterday I went tubin' on the beautiful Little River in Tennessee. It was perfect weather, and I was in the mood to have a moderately intense whitewater tubing experience.
My friends and I paid our dues, grabbed our tubes, and began making our way down the river. It was a very low impact experience at first. There was nothing too treacherous about the slow drifting current. Houses were dotted along the edges, and various other people were tubing, too.
At one point, we were winding around a left curve. Off in the distance, on the right shore, a couple of teenage males were monkeying their way up a tree. Reaching the top, about twenty five or thirty feet, one guy took a flying leap off the branch. There was a good two or three second free fall before he splashed into the water. I wanted to hop out of the water and look around the platform at the bottom of the tree. So, I climbed out of the water onto land. There were wooden rungs placed all the way up the tree in an amateurish Appalachian manner. Before I could even control myself, I began climbing. The rungs were about a body length and a half apart, nailed in the middle, so it was no easy climb. Some of the steps even began turning as I stepped on the edges of them.
One of the boys at the bottom, I learned, was a sixteen year old. He was the one that had jumped out of the tree before. He also built the step ladder up the tree. He was also insane. As I reached the top, I hugged the tree for dear life. Below me, twenty or thirty feet, was the river. There were giant underwater rocks, and in the middle of them the water was black. I assumed that was the area one would jump. The sixteen year old assured me the water was fourteen feet deep. With my friends taunting me, and my nerves killing me, I made the decision to jump.
Maneuvering my body around the trunk of the tree, I stepped out bravely into the empty air. In a blur, my body plunged downward toward the black water abyss. The free fall was cold and exhilirating, and I let out an involuntary yelp as I fell helplessly. With a splash, I hit the cold water and rocketed toward the river bottom. I swam back to my tube, vowing never again to trust sixteen year olds with my well-being. I was genuinely scared, but it was also exhilirating. I escaped unscathed, and I guess that's the important thing.
My friends and I paid our dues, grabbed our tubes, and began making our way down the river. It was a very low impact experience at first. There was nothing too treacherous about the slow drifting current. Houses were dotted along the edges, and various other people were tubing, too.
At one point, we were winding around a left curve. Off in the distance, on the right shore, a couple of teenage males were monkeying their way up a tree. Reaching the top, about twenty five or thirty feet, one guy took a flying leap off the branch. There was a good two or three second free fall before he splashed into the water. I wanted to hop out of the water and look around the platform at the bottom of the tree. So, I climbed out of the water onto land. There were wooden rungs placed all the way up the tree in an amateurish Appalachian manner. Before I could even control myself, I began climbing. The rungs were about a body length and a half apart, nailed in the middle, so it was no easy climb. Some of the steps even began turning as I stepped on the edges of them.
One of the boys at the bottom, I learned, was a sixteen year old. He was the one that had jumped out of the tree before. He also built the step ladder up the tree. He was also insane. As I reached the top, I hugged the tree for dear life. Below me, twenty or thirty feet, was the river. There were giant underwater rocks, and in the middle of them the water was black. I assumed that was the area one would jump. The sixteen year old assured me the water was fourteen feet deep. With my friends taunting me, and my nerves killing me, I made the decision to jump.
Maneuvering my body around the trunk of the tree, I stepped out bravely into the empty air. In a blur, my body plunged downward toward the black water abyss. The free fall was cold and exhilirating, and I let out an involuntary yelp as I fell helplessly. With a splash, I hit the cold water and rocketed toward the river bottom. I swam back to my tube, vowing never again to trust sixteen year olds with my well-being. I was genuinely scared, but it was also exhilirating. I escaped unscathed, and I guess that's the important thing.
Friday, September 02, 2005
spaghetti chunks
Like I have rainbows. Scary dragons are hiding under the wooden staircase. If you hold the green glass bottle up to the light, it will refract open models of future space stations. When I drink the coffee under the kitchen sink, the pipes drip slime into my burning colon. Horse feed finds my dreams fried like the fourth of july grass breeze with a hint of autumn calling a gross football player. If elves really knew how to fly, the forest would be auctioned off to the highest bidder. Of course, that bidder will already have to have their mortgage cleared with the bank in order to set up payments. And, they have to high five movie star mogules who paint limousines with old hardened paint brushes. Blue paint drips in rhythm with an old man tapping a cane in Tibet on the edge of a babbling brook full of rainbow trout. He shall reach down with his bony hand and snatch a rainbow trout, thus consuming it into his frail body. Then, after chewing and swallowing, he shall proclaim the secrets of the universe like a crackling old radio glowing audio truth into a black night's sky. Laughing, he will die.
Kittens run and frolic with inner innocense as their fuzzball bodies tumble in the leaves.
Kittens run and frolic with inner innocense as their fuzzball bodies tumble in the leaves.
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