Category: Uncategorized

I was just surfing the net minding my own business when the phone rang. Low and behold it was none other than Robert “Drug Dealer Guy” Davi [in the recording]. No shit! He was letting me know that he has 3 daughters and that as a California voter I should be aware of Proposition 73. I’m not sure how he wanted me to vote, since I hung up, (I’m a busy man). I suppose it’s a moot point since I already sent off my absentee ballot a week ago. Still … these last minute get out the support pre-recorded calls have been quite a hoot. I just hope that “Uzi Guy” Al Leong gives me a call about redistricting prop 77 before all is said and done.

Last night I was watching some episodes of the second season of Home Movies and during the commentary track creator and star Brendon Small (see cool things to your right) made a comment about how, to him, some of the most intimate moments in life are just when two people can talk about nothing of real importance and be on the same page. I think the key to this intimacy is a shared sense of humor. When I watch something that I think is funny, like very funny, I’m usually the only one in the room that gets that particular joke.

A big part of what makes these laugh out loud (Or high pitched yelp as I am want to do when I’m most amused) moments is that I see something in the joke that connects me to the writer; to the origin of that piece of humor. Sometimes it is not as simple as my love for the meta or hyper-ironic use of a pun, still there is usually something there in the complexity of the extrapolated background story that results in such a joke. To me it is funny if I can feel attached to the writers of that joke; if I can share (vicariously participate) in that intimate moment where that piece of funny was elucidated.

This is why I value humor so much in my personal life. I think it is the best way for people to connect as humans beyond the platitudes of political rhetoric and the false indentities of cultural and sociological stereotyping. As Bob Ross says everytime he finishes painting one of his “happy little trees” and starts to paint another one: “Let’s just give him a friend … it’s one of the most important things in life to have a friend.”

Today while taking a dinner break from doing night scouting of locations for a film project the cinematographer and I were watching I Love the 80’s 3D (the 3rd installment of 80’s nostalgia, they’ve probably got 2 more good ones left). In 1983 there was a grand little film made that stared Gary Busey and Mr. T this film was called D.C. Cab: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0085387/

Anywho . . . the cinematographer mentioned to me that in High School his Spanish teacher was engaged to Mr. T. The fact that Mr. T was engaged to a woman that went on to become a Spanish teacher is awesome enough. BUT the real cool thing about this is that through me working with this guy, whose Spanish teacher was engaged to Mr. T, I am now no more than 3 degrees* removed from knowing Mr. T (go ahead and intend whatever pun you want); and that is the sort of fodder fit for a blog.

* I am not counting myself because I do not think you have to do that.

I just saw this picture today on the Wikipedia, created by Jimmy Wales a stalwart believer in personal freedom and liberty, while surfing the web. It is the central electrode of a plasma lamp and I think it’s cool.

I’m a big fan of the “last man left on Earth” genre. I guess I like the minimalism style and the solitude subject matter. Anyway I’ve been reading The Earth Abides by George R. Stewart which is a book where a disease kills off most of the people. Recently I found a film from 1985 called The Quiet Earth. It was a New Zealand indie film and something that when I heard about it sounded like full exploration into that whole type of movie. No zombies or anything like that in this one most of the people are just gone vanished. There is a sci-fi twist but the most interesting part about this movie which I’ve had around for awhile is that it was the same movie that I saw the last 10 minutes of over 10 years ago. Like a song you fancy on the radio but never get the name of this movie was something that looked very strange, if you see just the last 10 minutes you’d probably have the same feeling, but was also something that I wanted to understand for what it was worth. When I watched this movie last night from the first few seconds I was very certain that this was in actuality the movie that I had been looking for and that after all these years I would get some sense of closure. It wasn’t a spectacular movie but as indie New Zealand films from the 1980’s go this one did have some funny and cinematic moments that only a film of this genre can have. Well now I have the closure; only for me the last 10 minutes still hold more questions than answers but some of the final pieces of imagery, like some dime sci-fi novel from the past, contain an elucidating exploration into a new world that I think cinema can do well, sometimes.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089869/

What’s in a name? Not much really it’s at best a place holder for someone’s identity.
When there are too many John Smith’s at the convention center it certainly makes the need
of an uncommon middle initial quite useful. Through history the popularity of some names
have come and gone, I think Jennifer is one for girls these days. I’m not complaining
about too many girls being named Jennifer; hell my name Ian is one of the most common
names in the world being derived from some form of John. Still in an ever complicated
world it would be nice if a variety of names were encouraged. One of the best ways I can
think of to do this in a meager way is to quit naming hurricanes after common perfectly
usable names for people! Andrew in the 90’s and now Katrina. Katrina is a perfectly
good name but now if in the next 18 months or so you named a baby Katrina it would be
perfectly reasonable to assume that you hate: The South, New Orleans, Cajuns and by proxy
American Indians, and the French, the Blues, Mardi Gras and by proxy topless “girls gone
wild”, and Catholics, that scene from Easy Rider where they drop acid and freak out in
the old cemetery, etc. That’d be mighty hateful. Now Katrina, a perfectly good name,
is on a moratorium. I wonder why the National Weather Service does not just agree to
name hurricanes after historically bad people since those names are already no good? A
Hurricane Hitler or Khan would do just fine and then we wouldn’t have to take regular
names off the market and there might be somewhat less confusion at the convention center.

Use an acordian and go to jail. That’s what the sticker on the side of the box says.
When he was in the cages with the others he was sad. It wasn’t the cage or a lack of
social spirit. Today he is in a smaller cage and never sees any of the others. Most got
shipped off to zoos and that was the end of them. When the people with their signs came
in and had their way was when his new life started. He was free but infuriated. The ones before were dirty and loud and small. These new ones were tall and wobbly and bald.
On the streets that was where his freedom was now. On the streets in a cage on the corner with a top hat and a chain he would grab at the bald ones, at their colorful furs. While the man squeezed the box and pushed the keys it yelped and sighed. He would pull at the hat to cover his eyes to save him from the bald ones with their speed and chaos. He pulled at the hat to cover his ears and save him from the sounds the shrill painful
sounds of the streets of this freedom. Before he was alone he was the biggest the
quietest the others were annoying but now these bald ones, though not like the others in
the cages, were almost worse and still he was alone belonging to neither group.

I find that sometimes it’s rather unexpectedly calming to my rather neurotic sensibilities when I just put myself to a simple task. The frustration is low and usually my surronds if not myself are better for it. One chore I find particularly soothing is washing dishes. I like to cook because I like to eat so it follows that I create quite a bit of entropy in my culinary endeavors. I don’t mind it though if I turn on the warm water get some soapy suds going and scrub away the days anxiety. Maybe it’s the white noise of the flowing faucet or the warm water or the playful spalshing and clanging but I find this most simple of tasks not only rewarding (a clean kictchen invites more cooking and eating) but also relaxing. If nothing else it beats a sink full of stinking dirty dishes complete with a full complement of garbage rotting food smells and dead fruit flys.

Fearful Invagination (2001)

This is from a site about Babylon 5.

http://www.midwinter.com/lurk/making/ulysses