I hate Glen Beck.
I hate him so much and his chubby little face on CNN that of course I have to read his articles on line to remind myself of how much I hate this guy and his sarcastic wisdom.
His latest orgy of stupidity and outrage is about Sarah Palin. What a surprise.
He makes the argument that the press have already begun to smear her. One example is an associated press article that went out all over the web with the title, Palin: The Iraq war was, "...a task from God."
He says this is taken out of context. Here are her actual words:
"Pray for our military men and women who are striving to do what is right. Also, for this country, that our leaders, our national leaders, are sending them out on a task that is from God. That's what we have to make sure that we're praying for, that there is a plan and that that plan is God's plan."
I fail to see how the entire quote makes her look any better. In fact, after reading the entire quote that did appear in the story I am more terrified of a Palin Presidency than ever before. We just had eight years of people leading the government who thought they were performers in God's plan. If this is God's plan maybe we should ask for another God, people who believe in logic or at the very least a plan B. Do we need more Jesus freaks not heeding his words and blowing things up? I don't think so.
The next two months are going to be messy. A lot of emotion that has been bottled up is coming out. The polls might say that Obama and McCain are neck and neck but I have to believe the American people are smarter than voting for the McCain and Bush in a bra.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Wake the Fu*k Up America!
It has been seven years since 9/11 and you know what we don't have?
Osama captured or dead.
A permanent and proper monument at ground zero in NY.
Those Weapons of mass destruction.
A president that gets it.
Oh yeah America, keep voting Republican. It is really working out for us unless you actually like results. Honestly, don't you think all Obama should have to say is that?
If you are behind in a home payment or loosing it to the bank, blame the Republicans. They are the ones that deregulated the safe guards.
if the price of gas at the pump hurt you blame the republicans. A recent report by the government concluded that it was wall street speculators that drove up the price of oil. Most of these wall street investors are also the biggest donors to the Republicans.
If you have a son, daughter, wife or husband who suffers from combat stress and has done more than two tours of duty, blame the Republicans. They are the ones who mismanaged a war we were told would be easy. Remember the Mission accomplished banner?
Go down the list of any social issue. Is it better now than it was 8 years ago? What are the Republican issues? Gay marriage is wrong, less government is good, everyone should have a gun? It certainly isn't fiscal responsibility. Under Bush he racked up the biggest deficit of all the other Presidents combined. Is it Defense? They underfunded the military and sent people into combat without all the equipment needed. Why? To save money and let the contractors do it? Is it a safer world now? There are more independent contractors in Iraq right now than US troops. Independent contractors do not answer to the military chain of command and are immune to Iraqi law. I am sure they are making America look great with those powers.
Do you believe in their platform of smaller government? Under Bush, the US government enjoyed the largest expansion since world war 2. Don't believe it is all about safety either. The department of education, something Bush and friends wants to get rid of grew by 45%! How does listening in on everything make anyone safe? Ah thats right. They told us they would only listen in on calls originating outside the US to a person who has had known contact with terrorists. Well, Bush and family did a lot of business with Osamas family so I guess there is a lot of tape of Bush.
Wake the fuck up America=)
Osama captured or dead.
A permanent and proper monument at ground zero in NY.
Those Weapons of mass destruction.
A president that gets it.
Oh yeah America, keep voting Republican. It is really working out for us unless you actually like results. Honestly, don't you think all Obama should have to say is that?
If you are behind in a home payment or loosing it to the bank, blame the Republicans. They are the ones that deregulated the safe guards.
if the price of gas at the pump hurt you blame the republicans. A recent report by the government concluded that it was wall street speculators that drove up the price of oil. Most of these wall street investors are also the biggest donors to the Republicans.
If you have a son, daughter, wife or husband who suffers from combat stress and has done more than two tours of duty, blame the Republicans. They are the ones who mismanaged a war we were told would be easy. Remember the Mission accomplished banner?
Go down the list of any social issue. Is it better now than it was 8 years ago? What are the Republican issues? Gay marriage is wrong, less government is good, everyone should have a gun? It certainly isn't fiscal responsibility. Under Bush he racked up the biggest deficit of all the other Presidents combined. Is it Defense? They underfunded the military and sent people into combat without all the equipment needed. Why? To save money and let the contractors do it? Is it a safer world now? There are more independent contractors in Iraq right now than US troops. Independent contractors do not answer to the military chain of command and are immune to Iraqi law. I am sure they are making America look great with those powers.
Do you believe in their platform of smaller government? Under Bush, the US government enjoyed the largest expansion since world war 2. Don't believe it is all about safety either. The department of education, something Bush and friends wants to get rid of grew by 45%! How does listening in on everything make anyone safe? Ah thats right. They told us they would only listen in on calls originating outside the US to a person who has had known contact with terrorists. Well, Bush and family did a lot of business with Osamas family so I guess there is a lot of tape of Bush.
Wake the fuck up America=)
Monday, September 08, 2008
The Sarah Palin Chronicles
Do you know who Phil Gramm is? He is the guy John McCain goes to for economic advice. Some advice. The meltdown in the housing and credit market can be traced directly back to this man. It is a very rare thing when you can make such grand pronouncements and have it backed up by more than just passion and vague blog postings.
Google Phil Gramm and deregulation.
I am not going to say I understand it all. Not even close. But I do understand this. Take away protections put in place after the disaster of the great depression and you get problems not seen since the great depression.
On Sunday the biggest government take over of a financial institution in U.S. history occurred. Freddie Mac and Fanny Mae hold 50% of all the mortgages in the country. They failed. They failed because Phil Gramm pushed for deregulation in the banking industry. 9% of all homes in America are either in foreclosure or behind on their payment. 9% might not seem like a lot but it's a number not seen since the Great Depression. Do you really want John McCain trusting this guy on anything?
McCain may have just as well nominated Lindsey Lohan's mom for V.P.
After telling anyone who will listen that they are the party of family values they nominate a mother who publicly advocated abstinence only education in schools. The proof of how well that works is her pregnant 17 year old daughter.
But we can't ask questions about this? Give me a break.
Cindy McCain has been quoted as saying that newly nominated V.P. Sarah Palin has foreign policy experience because Alaska is right next to Russia. Is anyone really that stupid? It boggles the mind a little. I have banking experience because I live next door to a bank. It doesn't work that way.
Bush has surrendered in Iraq. How else am I suppose to see Bush announcing troop cut backs? Bush and company have been screeching at us that any announcement of any time table for troop reductions would be the same thing as surrendering to the enemy. Do you know who has been demanding a time table for us to leave? The Iraqi government. You see the surge worked. The whole idea behind it was to give the new government breathing room to put itself together. Well they did and they would like us to leave now. In fact, they would like to know the exact time table of how and when we are going to leave. So I guess they are now the enemy too?
Make judgements but these are just the facts folks.
Google Phil Gramm and deregulation.
I am not going to say I understand it all. Not even close. But I do understand this. Take away protections put in place after the disaster of the great depression and you get problems not seen since the great depression.
On Sunday the biggest government take over of a financial institution in U.S. history occurred. Freddie Mac and Fanny Mae hold 50% of all the mortgages in the country. They failed. They failed because Phil Gramm pushed for deregulation in the banking industry. 9% of all homes in America are either in foreclosure or behind on their payment. 9% might not seem like a lot but it's a number not seen since the Great Depression. Do you really want John McCain trusting this guy on anything?
McCain may have just as well nominated Lindsey Lohan's mom for V.P.
After telling anyone who will listen that they are the party of family values they nominate a mother who publicly advocated abstinence only education in schools. The proof of how well that works is her pregnant 17 year old daughter.
But we can't ask questions about this? Give me a break.
Cindy McCain has been quoted as saying that newly nominated V.P. Sarah Palin has foreign policy experience because Alaska is right next to Russia. Is anyone really that stupid? It boggles the mind a little. I have banking experience because I live next door to a bank. It doesn't work that way.
Bush has surrendered in Iraq. How else am I suppose to see Bush announcing troop cut backs? Bush and company have been screeching at us that any announcement of any time table for troop reductions would be the same thing as surrendering to the enemy. Do you know who has been demanding a time table for us to leave? The Iraqi government. You see the surge worked. The whole idea behind it was to give the new government breathing room to put itself together. Well they did and they would like us to leave now. In fact, they would like to know the exact time table of how and when we are going to leave. So I guess they are now the enemy too?
Make judgements but these are just the facts folks.
Thursday, September 04, 2008
My Getting Paid Saga
A few people have asked so allow me to fill you in on my efforts to get paid by Last Comic Standing.
Just to recap, NBC claimed some Bullshit about not having to pay us because we were not "professional" comics. Turns out we are. Then it was some nonsense about not being a member of AFTRA/SAG. Thats where the story got weird cause I was made to join AFTRA or I could not have done Live at Gotham on Comedy Central last year. They had all the comics lined up in the basement of Gotham filling out paper work and signing our checks over to AFTRA. Turns out this wasn't a AFTRA Representative at all who I trusted with my paper work. It was a Comedy Central rep whose job it was to bring everything to AFTRA. Apparently it didn't work because a check was still floating around out there for me and AFTRA had me down in their, needs to pay for the next job or else, list. So that answered that. After several phone calls with AFTRA reps in San Francisco, they told me they have the check, will mail me half and then I can pay the rest of the initiation fees over time. Meanwhile I had been calling and e-mailing the producers of Last Comic Standing in an effort to get paid. I finally sent an e-mail explaining that my next step was to get the media involved or even a lawyer. After all, I wasn't the only one having a hard time getting money from these guys. A week latter a FedEx letter showed up with the paper work I needed to fill out to finally get paid. I filled it out and send it back. So here is whats happening now. I am waiting for a check from AFTRA. I am not sure of what the amount will be because frankly I don't trust anyone in this process any more. I don't even get the check. Standard operating procedure is to have the check sent directly to AFTRA first. They take their cut and then mail me mine. Will see.
Some where floating around out there is a nice little sum. Now will see if any of it shows up after jumping through flaming hoops of bullshit just to find out that I owe money to AFTRA for something I did more than a year ago and I might not get any of the money from Last Comic Standing because it has to pay for the initiation fee I thought had already been taken care of with the check I never saw and no one bothered to tell me was outstanding.
Showbiz. You gotta love it cause doing it for the money will kill you.
Just to recap, NBC claimed some Bullshit about not having to pay us because we were not "professional" comics. Turns out we are. Then it was some nonsense about not being a member of AFTRA/SAG. Thats where the story got weird cause I was made to join AFTRA or I could not have done Live at Gotham on Comedy Central last year. They had all the comics lined up in the basement of Gotham filling out paper work and signing our checks over to AFTRA. Turns out this wasn't a AFTRA Representative at all who I trusted with my paper work. It was a Comedy Central rep whose job it was to bring everything to AFTRA. Apparently it didn't work because a check was still floating around out there for me and AFTRA had me down in their, needs to pay for the next job or else, list. So that answered that. After several phone calls with AFTRA reps in San Francisco, they told me they have the check, will mail me half and then I can pay the rest of the initiation fees over time. Meanwhile I had been calling and e-mailing the producers of Last Comic Standing in an effort to get paid. I finally sent an e-mail explaining that my next step was to get the media involved or even a lawyer. After all, I wasn't the only one having a hard time getting money from these guys. A week latter a FedEx letter showed up with the paper work I needed to fill out to finally get paid. I filled it out and send it back. So here is whats happening now. I am waiting for a check from AFTRA. I am not sure of what the amount will be because frankly I don't trust anyone in this process any more. I don't even get the check. Standard operating procedure is to have the check sent directly to AFTRA first. They take their cut and then mail me mine. Will see.
Some where floating around out there is a nice little sum. Now will see if any of it shows up after jumping through flaming hoops of bullshit just to find out that I owe money to AFTRA for something I did more than a year ago and I might not get any of the money from Last Comic Standing because it has to pay for the initiation fee I thought had already been taken care of with the check I never saw and no one bothered to tell me was outstanding.
Showbiz. You gotta love it cause doing it for the money will kill you.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin.
Alaska Gov. Sarah Palin.
God must hate the Republicans right now. The opening day of their convention and a Hurricane slams into Louisiana just in time for everyone to remember Katrina drowning New Orleans.
The Governors from three states canceled their speeches and George Bush pulled out to.
Then comes the announcement that the Republicans have chosen a virtually unknown Alaskan Governor to be McCain’s running mate. In a blatant attempt to grab all those alienated female voters who wanted Clinton, they pick a woman. A woman who happens to have a pregnant 17-year-old daughter. No one has said this inconvenient truth should be exploited for political gain. This is only a big deal for the same reason John Edwards lying about an affair is a big deal. These people set themselves up as more than politicians. They proclaimed family values and high morals as something they live by. Then something embarrassing happens like your 17-year-old daughter gets knocked up just in time to become a poster child for real sex education in the schools. Not the abstinence only program her mother has voted for over and over again. You look like a hypocrite or at the very least ignorant. But none of these are reason to not vote for McCain. Consider this. John McCain is a 72-year-old man who has had several bouts with skin cancer in the last few years. You have to think there is a 50% chance he will die in office and his VP will then become President. Haven’t we seen what being against abortion, for guns and tax cuts for the wealthy can get us? Could we even survive another four years of that philosophy?
She doesn’t think global warming is man made.
She thinks creationism should be taught in public schools right next to evolution.
She has called the invasion and occupation of Iraq as being part of “God’s plan.”
She has far less experience in public office than Obama. There goes that argument for the GOP against him at least.
Do we really want another Dick Cheney for Vice President?
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Friday afternoon I was on the phone with my Doctors office waiting to hear the results of a test. It wasn’t a test for cancer or an STD, but it was still a test with a certain amount of fear attached to it. I am waiting on hold for five minuets before it hits me, where is the music? If ever there was a time for music, this is it. No one wants to be alone with thoughts racing around their head as they wait for medical news. At the very least play some Phil Collins. That guy can really use the royalty payments now anyway.
Turns out I am OK. I should eat better and blah blah blah.
For two dollars I saw a new product. It is a plastic thing that hooks onto your belt and can hold a regular size bottle of water at your side. Think of it as an aqua fanny pack. Some see this and think it’s a great idea. People need to drink more water. I see it and think cars should come equipped with cup holders. Not people.
Saturday night I drove to Yuba City, CA. Ever been? There is no easy way to get there. You leave the well-traveled familiar Interstate 80 for tiny 113. Then you twist and wind your way across fields and through peach orchards until you reach the Bowling alley where the gig is held. I did this gig once before. I don’t know that I need to do it again. This room is what I like to call a knife fight. The crowd is almost pre-wired to yell shit. That and they were treated to some decidedly lowbrow stuff long before I got a hold of them. It is a Bowling alley though and quality of content is not something I think they are that concerned with. By the time I got on stage to close it out, they were drunk, loud and stupid. Imagine that? A bowling alley comedy audience in the central valley wasn’t so smart. I spent forty bucks in gas and two hours driving to wait three hours and four comics to do 40 minuets in front of a crowd I probably don’t see eye to eye on anything with. Was this a good use of my time? Probably not. Such is the life of a comic. I have been doing more road stuff again lately because I missed it. I think that phase is over for now. Time to take a shot at the next elusive level again.
Sunday I watched a friend get married. I smiled a lot and thought the whole thing was beautiful in a way I am not use to feeling. Then I felt depressed as shit and thought about my brief time in L.A. The friend who got married has a baby and a job as an apartment manager now. Comedy is still on the list of things he does, but it’s part of a list now.
I have been looking for an agent and manager lately. Enough fucking around in the trenches with the little stuff. I kept looking at everyone at the wedding and realized that out of everyone there I am still single and still gigging as hard as ever. The grass is always greener right? They must think I have all this freedom while I think they have people to go home to that love them.
This weekend was a wonderful demonstration in what if and what didn't happen. What if I had found a way to stay in L.A. instead of returning here? What if things had gone well and I got married? What if? Well, this is what I got. More friends are getting married and each time we get together in a group it seems as though more kids are running around. That kind of shit makes you wonder about life. Have I built anything of value? What is the quality of my life? What do I want and what is important to have? None of these are easily answered questions. The best you can do is show up, kiss the bride and eat the cake that is offered. Such is life. Such is my life.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Metaphor
It can be a dangerous business mixing metaphor with resolve. John McCain recently said he would pursue Osama, “…to the gates of hell!” Doesn’t that just wanna make you climb up on a pick up truck, wave the American flag around and blast a Toby Keith song? It sounds dramatic enough but there is no need to go to such extremes.
Obama has said he would go into Pakistan and get him. For saying this, he was criticized. It doesn’t matter that they are saying the same thing. It doesn’t matter that one is throwing bumper sticker solutions not grounded in reality to supporters. It doesn’t matter that every intelligence agency in the world places him in a tribal region of Pakistan. McCain has said over and over that he would not go into Pakistan to get Osama. Where would he go to get him? Well, to the gates of hell, fagot! That’s where!
Maybe if you look closely at a map of Pakistan, somewhere there is a tiny little region named, gates of hell. If that’s true, then they are saying the same thing.
You can’t use metaphors to stir up the patriotic and then mock the other guy who is saying he will accomplish the same thing in reality. McCain might as well have said, “I will pursue Osama to the forest moon of Endor!” or, “I will chase him into Morodor along side Hobbits and men to bring peace to Middle earth once and for all!”
I would love to write a John McCain speech.
“Today we have Sand-People and Elves standing together. Pod racers from Tatooien and residence of the shire, all-coming together to vote for leadership. As I stand here today on the deck of the Battlestar Gallatica, I promise that we will chase down our enemy no matter how far away or mythical a place Osama is hiding! If Narnia is harboring terrorists, or second life, we shall do whatever is needed to bring him to justice!”
He would have the sci-fi fantasy vote.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
"59!"
I don’t understand. On the day that Russia rolled tanks into the country of Georgia, the news talked only about John Edwards having an affair two years ago that his wife had already been told about. He is not running for public office or currently holding one. Besides, did I mention Russia invaded a country?
Now, with all that is going on all I keep hearing about is how offensive the movie, Tropic Thunder is. Like a lot of the people who are complaining about it, I haven’t seen it either. It just reminds me that here in America, we get very upset about words. It’s a pretty nice problem to have. Sorry to say so but I laughed every time I saw a network anchor or reporter refer to the word retarded as, “the R-word.”
The R-word? Seriously?
Do you remember growing up and ever hearing, sticks and stones may break my bones but names will never hurt me? What happened to that concept? Cause I gotta tell you, most of the world is going to bed hungry tonight and were arguing over words.
Retarded turned into disabled. Then it was special, differently abled and now the correct term apparently is intellectually disadvantaged. Fine. That describes the President pretty well.
At some point I believe America will start to drown in all the real issues we would rather deny. I have invented a scale to determine how close we are to social collapse based on the amount of letters in the alphabet that are used in place of “bad words.”
For instance, I think most people would know what word I was thinking of if I said the
C-word. Then of course there is the N-word and now we have the R-word. Those are just three letters of the alphabet. Granted, those are horrible words used to convey hate, but they are words.
I predicted that when 15 of the 26 letters are used in place of “bad words” we will be exprcing black outs and food riots.
20 out of 26 letters and it will be complete anarchy in the streets with whatever government that’s holding on about to fall. When all 26 letters can also be used to denote foul, racist or derogatory terms, we will start using numbers.
You get cut off by a driver and instead of yelling something or giving the finger, you just yell a number at people. “59!”
“I can’t believe you said that around children!”
My point? Rome is burning while we turn offensive words into single letters. No problem is solved. No war is ended or homeless fed. At least we can take comfort in the knowledge that right now only 3 letters stand in for “bad words.”
Just a note to my Uber Liberal friends, ever consider looking at the context the word is used in? I am just saying, sometimes you have to use the bad word in order for people to know what you are ironically making fun of. In fact, look up the word ironic and then get back to me.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Medford, OR
Every once in a while you encounter a living metaphor. I spent the weekend in Medford, Oregon performing at a sports bar. That's not the metaphor part of this story but its close. Saturday afternoon, the other comic, Dax and I went for a drive. I had met Dax four years ago in the Seattle Comedy Competition. The first thing he said to me when I saw him was, "Are you still in love with that girl?"
I was teased constantly by everyone for having my cell phone always up to my ear talking with Samantha.
"No. I am pretty much a shattered man these days."
Funny how that sentence changes the mood in a room.
I wanted to get an oil change but when we couldn't find a place I settled for a car wash. Ten minuets and five bucks in quarters later, my car was free of the dust and mud a five hour drive put on it the day before. Less than a minuet after we left I pulled up to a light. Dax and I turned to look and there on the corner stood two cheerleaders going through routines as they pointed to a car wash sign.
Imagine that. Just half a block away stood girls in skirts holding sponges ready and willing to clean my car but I had already washed it.
Ah life! How you love to mock me!
You can't turn into a gas station for a hand wash from cheerleaders with water literally beading on your windshield. Well you can if you want to be an Amber alert.
We smiled at the girls who smiled back, all of us seeming to appreciate the irony of the situation. In fact, even the homeless guy standing on the opposite corner got into it. When he saw them dancing, he danced too, sign in hand. It made an affect on a guy riding his bike. He stopped and gave the homeless guy a dollar.
The light changed and we were on our way again.
Medford is a quiet enough little town just pass the Californian border. The shows, sponsored by the local classic rock station, went well. It was a classic one nighter gig. The crowd was rowdy, it was a riff-a-thon from word one and just up the street from us was a town named white city. What is white city? It is a trailer park where people are known for making and selling meth. In fact, more than a few people came up to me after the shows and said, "We call this place Meth-ford. Not Medford."
Nice.
A place with meth and mobil homes could only be named White City if you think about it. That or they should put up a sign that reads, Irony?
All in all the shows were fun and the drive wasn't too bad. My little Honda handles the distance with ease. Once you get up toward Mt. Shasta, the scenery is beautiful too. It wasn't my first time doing comedy in Medford either. Driving around with Dax, I remembered staying at a Red Lion in town for a show that was canceled. The other club in town where comedy use to be done is named, Ground Zero. If it sounds like a stupid name before 9/11 then you have to wonder why they didn't change the name after 9/11. I had worked there about 10 years ago. It stands out in my mind only because I went home with a girl I met after the show. everything seemed to be on track for a fun night when I had to excuse myself from the girls room. I went outside and proceeded to spend the night vomiting in her drive way till morning when the other comic who went home with her friend came and picked me up. Ugh!
I vividly remember making the five hour drive home thinking I cannot drink anymore. As I recall, it still took a few more embarrassing instances before I actually did quit.
Back then all I wanted was to headline these gigs. These days I turn these gigs down more than I say yes to them. Between the cost of gas and the average crowds at these road gigs it just doesn't make sense to put the millage on you or the car. Not for what the average gig like this pays anyway. I took this gig because the pay was better than what you normally get for these. I also wanted to get in with the Booker who books a lot of stuff in the greater Pacific Northwest.
It was only once I was there that I realized I had been here before. That might be the lesson on this trip. Each time I have passed through Medford I have been in an agitated state of mind wondering about my career in comedy and my future. This time was no different. Maybe it's not about finding meaning or deciding where I want to be in comedy. Maybe it is just about acceptance. If I want to make a living at stand-up, the work is out there. Problem is there is a whole lot of other Medford's out there and what is required to make those gigs work is not always what you can justify to your sense of doing art.
Thats the lesson or, if you want to get a car wash, don't turn into the first place you see. There might be high school cheerleaders around the next corner!
I was teased constantly by everyone for having my cell phone always up to my ear talking with Samantha.
"No. I am pretty much a shattered man these days."
Funny how that sentence changes the mood in a room.
I wanted to get an oil change but when we couldn't find a place I settled for a car wash. Ten minuets and five bucks in quarters later, my car was free of the dust and mud a five hour drive put on it the day before. Less than a minuet after we left I pulled up to a light. Dax and I turned to look and there on the corner stood two cheerleaders going through routines as they pointed to a car wash sign.
Imagine that. Just half a block away stood girls in skirts holding sponges ready and willing to clean my car but I had already washed it.
Ah life! How you love to mock me!
You can't turn into a gas station for a hand wash from cheerleaders with water literally beading on your windshield. Well you can if you want to be an Amber alert.
We smiled at the girls who smiled back, all of us seeming to appreciate the irony of the situation. In fact, even the homeless guy standing on the opposite corner got into it. When he saw them dancing, he danced too, sign in hand. It made an affect on a guy riding his bike. He stopped and gave the homeless guy a dollar.
The light changed and we were on our way again.
Medford is a quiet enough little town just pass the Californian border. The shows, sponsored by the local classic rock station, went well. It was a classic one nighter gig. The crowd was rowdy, it was a riff-a-thon from word one and just up the street from us was a town named white city. What is white city? It is a trailer park where people are known for making and selling meth. In fact, more than a few people came up to me after the shows and said, "We call this place Meth-ford. Not Medford."
Nice.
A place with meth and mobil homes could only be named White City if you think about it. That or they should put up a sign that reads, Irony?
All in all the shows were fun and the drive wasn't too bad. My little Honda handles the distance with ease. Once you get up toward Mt. Shasta, the scenery is beautiful too. It wasn't my first time doing comedy in Medford either. Driving around with Dax, I remembered staying at a Red Lion in town for a show that was canceled. The other club in town where comedy use to be done is named, Ground Zero. If it sounds like a stupid name before 9/11 then you have to wonder why they didn't change the name after 9/11. I had worked there about 10 years ago. It stands out in my mind only because I went home with a girl I met after the show. everything seemed to be on track for a fun night when I had to excuse myself from the girls room. I went outside and proceeded to spend the night vomiting in her drive way till morning when the other comic who went home with her friend came and picked me up. Ugh!
I vividly remember making the five hour drive home thinking I cannot drink anymore. As I recall, it still took a few more embarrassing instances before I actually did quit.
Back then all I wanted was to headline these gigs. These days I turn these gigs down more than I say yes to them. Between the cost of gas and the average crowds at these road gigs it just doesn't make sense to put the millage on you or the car. Not for what the average gig like this pays anyway. I took this gig because the pay was better than what you normally get for these. I also wanted to get in with the Booker who books a lot of stuff in the greater Pacific Northwest.
It was only once I was there that I realized I had been here before. That might be the lesson on this trip. Each time I have passed through Medford I have been in an agitated state of mind wondering about my career in comedy and my future. This time was no different. Maybe it's not about finding meaning or deciding where I want to be in comedy. Maybe it is just about acceptance. If I want to make a living at stand-up, the work is out there. Problem is there is a whole lot of other Medford's out there and what is required to make those gigs work is not always what you can justify to your sense of doing art.
Thats the lesson or, if you want to get a car wash, don't turn into the first place you see. There might be high school cheerleaders around the next corner!
Monday, August 18, 2008
Change?
Dear regular readers and those curious enough to stop by,
I find myself at an impasse in life. Turning forty in a few months has me thoroughly freaked out. Aren't you suppose to have an idea about where life is headed by now? Shouldn't you have something to show for being alive on this world after four decades? I don't know. I do know this; I want a new day job. I could survive on comedy but I don't want to just survive anymore. Not at this point in my life. I like having health care. I need a new day job. Something flexible enough to allow me to still take off for gigs when I need too, but also something with purpose. If I could work with kids or in a organization that does some good in this world, I would be willing to work for half of what I make at my day job now. A job that has slowly devolved into number crunching and paper pushing. So I ask you dear reader or fan, got any ideas? I am not giving up on stand-up. It is too much a part of my identity to ever stop, but if I am going to stay in San Francisco and only work the gigs I want, a day job is a necessary evil. Thing is, I don't want it to feel evil anymore.
If you have any thoughts please shoot me an e-mail.
Thanks
I find myself at an impasse in life. Turning forty in a few months has me thoroughly freaked out. Aren't you suppose to have an idea about where life is headed by now? Shouldn't you have something to show for being alive on this world after four decades? I don't know. I do know this; I want a new day job. I could survive on comedy but I don't want to just survive anymore. Not at this point in my life. I like having health care. I need a new day job. Something flexible enough to allow me to still take off for gigs when I need too, but also something with purpose. If I could work with kids or in a organization that does some good in this world, I would be willing to work for half of what I make at my day job now. A job that has slowly devolved into number crunching and paper pushing. So I ask you dear reader or fan, got any ideas? I am not giving up on stand-up. It is too much a part of my identity to ever stop, but if I am going to stay in San Francisco and only work the gigs I want, a day job is a necessary evil. Thing is, I don't want it to feel evil anymore.
If you have any thoughts please shoot me an e-mail.
Thanks
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Eva 4eva!
http://view.break.com/549769 - Watch more free videos
Well I don't get it. This is the commercial that has been banned by every American network. This is what we think shouldn't be on TV? If we are so worried about kids getting the wrong messages from TV, what does it say about our society when a hot chick's body is deemed inappropriate but Bush can hold a press conference where no one calls him on the lies that fly from his mouth? Maybe if we were a bit more comfortable with sex and treated violence like we now treat sex, we would be a healthy happy culture instead of the confused people we are.
Just a thought.
Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Black Guys for McCain?
A friend sent me a link to a blog named, black men for McCain. Check it out. Read some of it. How could a black guy be for McCain? I don't know if he knows this, but McCain voted against giving Martin Luther King a Holiday in Arizona. How bad do you have to hate a guy to vote against a day off? McCain is also in favor of what are the Bush Tax Cuts. It's a nice phrase but don't be fooled. The Tax Cuts were only for the richest 1% of Americas richest 1%. Way to go!
How many black males in America are in that category exactly?
A black guy voting for McCain makes as much sense as a black guy voting for McCain. Seriously. What is McCain going to do for the average anyone in this country let alone a black guy? Voting against a holiday for King is about the only thing McCain hasn't flipped flopped on.
He was against off shore drilling. Now he is for it.
He was against the Bush tax cuts because he knew what they really were.
Now he is for them.
He is against gay marriage because he believes marriage is a sacred thing between a man and his wife. Hard to tell if he thinks his previous marriage was sacred. He left his first wife after she was crippled in a car accident. Yeah. You wouldn't want gays messing up an institution like that. They might stay together and adopted the kids straight people are producing with no thought. Dear God!
Now if he hates gay people that much what do you honestly think he thinks about black people?
The guy voted against a MLK holiday!
How many black males in America are in that category exactly?
A black guy voting for McCain makes as much sense as a black guy voting for McCain. Seriously. What is McCain going to do for the average anyone in this country let alone a black guy? Voting against a holiday for King is about the only thing McCain hasn't flipped flopped on.
He was against off shore drilling. Now he is for it.
He was against the Bush tax cuts because he knew what they really were.
Now he is for them.
He is against gay marriage because he believes marriage is a sacred thing between a man and his wife. Hard to tell if he thinks his previous marriage was sacred. He left his first wife after she was crippled in a car accident. Yeah. You wouldn't want gays messing up an institution like that. They might stay together and adopted the kids straight people are producing with no thought. Dear God!
Now if he hates gay people that much what do you honestly think he thinks about black people?
The guy voted against a MLK holiday!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
The Jock
Rarely do I get an answer from the crowd that confounds me. Being a comic that works the crowd you are sorta like a lawyer; don't ask any question you don't think you already know the answer to. This is not always the case of course, but most of the time I am not too surprised by an answer.
Allow me to set the scene. This is a college/private gig. I say partly private because the entire audience was composed of 40 incoming Freshmen from all over the planet. We were in a tiny room that was 20 degrees warmer than just outside the door. The average age was 18. Do you remember being 18? Remember that look you had? No? It is something in your eyes and your body language. I can now identify it as not giving a shit. Did I mention this event was mandatory for them?
Let's revue- 40 kids in a hot room for a mandatory event staring me.
Got it now?
I had never heard of this tiny college somewhere down the peninsula. But it's there. These kids parents were rich enough to send them across the world but not rich enough to get them into the Ivy league schools. But they still exhaled a sense of entitlement.
About half way through the show, I ask a "jock" what he is going to school for.
"Play football." He says.
"Oh. Do you want to play professionally someday?"
"No. I want to get into politics."
That's the answer that had me thrown.
I think a good tackle might make debates a bit more interesting but other than that I don't know how one does anything for the other.
When I tell him this he replies, "It worked for Bush."
OK. That's the reply that got me.
First of all, this kid is 18. Who they hell idolizes Bush enough to follow his lead? Who models their academic career after Bush?
Hasn't he fucked up? A lot?
By the way. When he attended the all boy's school of Andover, he was actually a cheerleader. Google it. I'll wait. Hopefully you get to see the photo of him looking every bit the douche he is holding a megaphone as he readies himself to cheer.
There turned out to be more than a few kids who proudly called themselves conservative.
I don't get that. It's college. I never went but from what I can gather college is suppose to be all about getting laid, high and occasionally staring at a Lava lamp under the influence of Mushrooms communing with God. You don't walk in saying. I am opposed to joy! Not at 18 you don't. Course, I am getting all my info on what college is from movies.
At some point I say to the crowd that Obama scares the shit out of vast swaths of the country because he's black. In one of the most unintentionally hilarious moments I have witnessed in a long time, my statement on Obama was met with a very enthusiastic head nod in agreement from the Jock.
What were the odds a rich white kid named Kyle, was going to be scared of black people?
Welcome to California kid. I would love to see where your head is at in four years.
What caught my eye at first was his gum chewing. He was smacking away on it like it held the antidote to boredom. No matter what I said or implied, he sat there calmly chewing his gum with the erie confidence of the dim. Maybe he has more in common with Bush than I thought.
Good luck=)
Allow me to set the scene. This is a college/private gig. I say partly private because the entire audience was composed of 40 incoming Freshmen from all over the planet. We were in a tiny room that was 20 degrees warmer than just outside the door. The average age was 18. Do you remember being 18? Remember that look you had? No? It is something in your eyes and your body language. I can now identify it as not giving a shit. Did I mention this event was mandatory for them?
Let's revue- 40 kids in a hot room for a mandatory event staring me.
Got it now?
I had never heard of this tiny college somewhere down the peninsula. But it's there. These kids parents were rich enough to send them across the world but not rich enough to get them into the Ivy league schools. But they still exhaled a sense of entitlement.
About half way through the show, I ask a "jock" what he is going to school for.
"Play football." He says.
"Oh. Do you want to play professionally someday?"
"No. I want to get into politics."
That's the answer that had me thrown.
I think a good tackle might make debates a bit more interesting but other than that I don't know how one does anything for the other.
When I tell him this he replies, "It worked for Bush."
OK. That's the reply that got me.
First of all, this kid is 18. Who they hell idolizes Bush enough to follow his lead? Who models their academic career after Bush?
Hasn't he fucked up? A lot?
By the way. When he attended the all boy's school of Andover, he was actually a cheerleader. Google it. I'll wait. Hopefully you get to see the photo of him looking every bit the douche he is holding a megaphone as he readies himself to cheer.
There turned out to be more than a few kids who proudly called themselves conservative.
I don't get that. It's college. I never went but from what I can gather college is suppose to be all about getting laid, high and occasionally staring at a Lava lamp under the influence of Mushrooms communing with God. You don't walk in saying. I am opposed to joy! Not at 18 you don't. Course, I am getting all my info on what college is from movies.
At some point I say to the crowd that Obama scares the shit out of vast swaths of the country because he's black. In one of the most unintentionally hilarious moments I have witnessed in a long time, my statement on Obama was met with a very enthusiastic head nod in agreement from the Jock.
What were the odds a rich white kid named Kyle, was going to be scared of black people?
Welcome to California kid. I would love to see where your head is at in four years.
What caught my eye at first was his gum chewing. He was smacking away on it like it held the antidote to boredom. No matter what I said or implied, he sat there calmly chewing his gum with the erie confidence of the dim. Maybe he has more in common with Bush than I thought.
Good luck=)
Mark David Chapman
John Lennon's killer, Mark David Chapman, was denied parole for the fifth time Tuesday.
The New York State Division of Parole issued a release saying Chapman's request was denied "Due to concern for the public safety and welfare."
Really? Public safety?
He stays in jail at this point because if he ever got out someone would shoot him.
What do you need to convince the parole board that he deserves to stay in prison?
A copy of the of the White Album should do it.
It's not like his life is so bad in jail. Check this out-
For the past 16 years he has received conjugal visits with his wife, Gloria. The visits are part of a state program called "family reunion" that allows inmates to spend up to 44 hours at a time with family members in a special setting.
That is more time than most people get all week with a wife or girlfriend!
The dude shot John Lennon and he still gets to get laid? What is prison for exactly?
He shot a Beatle by the way. John might forgive him and this is the first parole hearing that Yoko did not submit a letter against it but I think most people would be extremely pissed if the guy who shot John Lennon ever got out. Make him take guitar lessons. Tell him that when he can write a song like Across the Universe, then maybe we will talk about it. Better yet, let him out with a gun and a list of bands like Duran Duran and the Eagles. No more come back tours boy's!
The New York State Division of Parole issued a release saying Chapman's request was denied "Due to concern for the public safety and welfare."
Really? Public safety?
He stays in jail at this point because if he ever got out someone would shoot him.
What do you need to convince the parole board that he deserves to stay in prison?
A copy of the of the White Album should do it.
It's not like his life is so bad in jail. Check this out-
For the past 16 years he has received conjugal visits with his wife, Gloria. The visits are part of a state program called "family reunion" that allows inmates to spend up to 44 hours at a time with family members in a special setting.
That is more time than most people get all week with a wife or girlfriend!
The dude shot John Lennon and he still gets to get laid? What is prison for exactly?
He shot a Beatle by the way. John might forgive him and this is the first parole hearing that Yoko did not submit a letter against it but I think most people would be extremely pissed if the guy who shot John Lennon ever got out. Make him take guitar lessons. Tell him that when he can write a song like Across the Universe, then maybe we will talk about it. Better yet, let him out with a gun and a list of bands like Duran Duran and the Eagles. No more come back tours boy's!
Saturday, August 02, 2008
These Modern Times
Ever get trapped in the whose more San Francisco game? Fun, isn't it? It gets played a lot in the Marina at trendy new restaurants and in the mission at hipster cafes and the Sunset in donut shops. Stay here long enough and you will end up playing it too.
I finally found the answer that shuts everyone down instantly no matter what anyone else has said.
"I buy pot on Hippie Hill in Golden Gate park."
Good for you. But my answer is better.
"I am third generation born and raised in San Francisco."
Way to never get out there and see the world. Nope. I still have a better answer.
"I'm homeless."
That does it. That ends the stupid conversation in a hurry. Try it sometime.
In a Walgreen's recently, I came across this odd site. Behind an old woman pushing a shopping cart, a young girl furiously texted.
She had one of those phones with the fold out key board. The young girl was the old woman's helper I think. When ever the young girl looked up, the old woman stopped. Only after the young girl went back to her phone did the old woman move again. For a second though, it looked like the girl had this old lady on remote control.
I literally did a double take.
I understand text messaging is not going away. I use it. Just not on the level some people do. What drives me crazy is when I am having a conversation with a person and in the middle of a sentence, they pull out a phone they had on vibrate. They nod their head at you and throw in a lame, "Uh ha" but their thumbs are pumping away at a tiny key board as I wait for our conversation to resume.
It does. But then, right on cue, another text message must be answered. Sometimes, when I have asked, they tell me they are having a conversation with 3 other people as they talk to me.
What?
Does all the medication people take for ADD make this possible? How can you have any meaningful connection if you are trying to keep three other conversations straight in your head? I can barely remain coherent during one conversation let alone three!
I don't want to sound like the old man here, but is anyone experiencing anything in real time any more? TiVo lets you zoom past commercials. Great.
Texting lets you have multiple conversations in play with a media that is largely hard wired to be passive aggressive. Awesome.
That is what I consider most text messages to be by the way, passive aggressive.
I still think that TiVo is witch craft. How do they stop a live show and then let you pick it up again? What alternate universe do we get shunted off to when that happens? I am only half serious here. I will watch the commercials because I feel like I am connected to other people by virtue of the fact that we are all experiencing this together. It's sad. I know. It's sad mostly that I feel connected to people because I watch the commercials. When I am in a group of people and I am not comfortable, I don't think of commercials or anything like that, it's just that you can imagine what is happening in millions of homes at once when a commercial comes on. I can't explain it. Just know that TiVo is evil and will be found to cause cancer just like cell phones do now but no one wants to know.
Have you thought about that? I asked myself one night what I would do if some giant well researched warning came out that cell phones, the backbone of modern communications, caused cancer. I would keep using mine. I would. People smoke and everyone understands what a hazard that is now.
I already have to go outside to have most conversations on my cell. I can keep the smokers company.
All this communication technology we have built has only succeeded in removing personal interaction. Cell phones, e-mail and text messaging is a way to avoid conversation. Not help it. And when we find that our world is lonely, we sign up for computer dating. Call it whatever you want, but it is computer dating.
We have removed poetry from the world. Do you know what I mean by that? Nothing is allowed to happen naturally anymore. When was the last time you heard of a friend meeting some in public? It's almost weird to hear such stories. Internet commercials for hot girls wanting to meet me flash by in the margins of myspace and facebook, my spam folder is over flowing with pleas from other hot girls that want to meet me. All the girls they use to market these services do not look like they need such services. They are always young hot and sometimes partially dressed.
You can't meet a guy?
I tried it once. It was a long process, but eventually I had a "date." I put it in quotation marks because we were not physically in the same place. It happened entirely with the aid of a camera and our computers. In the middle of the conversation she picked up her phone to text message someone. This is intimacy now? This is what passes for getting to know someone?
The goal of the second date is no longer the blow job. Nope. The goal of the second date seems to be seeing them in person.
"Dude, last night I got to third base with this new chick I am seeing."
"Third base! She sent you a photo of herself on her phone? Damn!"
"If I play my cards right, I might get to see her live!"
This is modern romance now.
I finally found the answer that shuts everyone down instantly no matter what anyone else has said.
"I buy pot on Hippie Hill in Golden Gate park."
Good for you. But my answer is better.
"I am third generation born and raised in San Francisco."
Way to never get out there and see the world. Nope. I still have a better answer.
"I'm homeless."
That does it. That ends the stupid conversation in a hurry. Try it sometime.
In a Walgreen's recently, I came across this odd site. Behind an old woman pushing a shopping cart, a young girl furiously texted.
She had one of those phones with the fold out key board. The young girl was the old woman's helper I think. When ever the young girl looked up, the old woman stopped. Only after the young girl went back to her phone did the old woman move again. For a second though, it looked like the girl had this old lady on remote control.
I literally did a double take.
I understand text messaging is not going away. I use it. Just not on the level some people do. What drives me crazy is when I am having a conversation with a person and in the middle of a sentence, they pull out a phone they had on vibrate. They nod their head at you and throw in a lame, "Uh ha" but their thumbs are pumping away at a tiny key board as I wait for our conversation to resume.
It does. But then, right on cue, another text message must be answered. Sometimes, when I have asked, they tell me they are having a conversation with 3 other people as they talk to me.
What?
Does all the medication people take for ADD make this possible? How can you have any meaningful connection if you are trying to keep three other conversations straight in your head? I can barely remain coherent during one conversation let alone three!
I don't want to sound like the old man here, but is anyone experiencing anything in real time any more? TiVo lets you zoom past commercials. Great.
Texting lets you have multiple conversations in play with a media that is largely hard wired to be passive aggressive. Awesome.
That is what I consider most text messages to be by the way, passive aggressive.
I still think that TiVo is witch craft. How do they stop a live show and then let you pick it up again? What alternate universe do we get shunted off to when that happens? I am only half serious here. I will watch the commercials because I feel like I am connected to other people by virtue of the fact that we are all experiencing this together. It's sad. I know. It's sad mostly that I feel connected to people because I watch the commercials. When I am in a group of people and I am not comfortable, I don't think of commercials or anything like that, it's just that you can imagine what is happening in millions of homes at once when a commercial comes on. I can't explain it. Just know that TiVo is evil and will be found to cause cancer just like cell phones do now but no one wants to know.
Have you thought about that? I asked myself one night what I would do if some giant well researched warning came out that cell phones, the backbone of modern communications, caused cancer. I would keep using mine. I would. People smoke and everyone understands what a hazard that is now.
I already have to go outside to have most conversations on my cell. I can keep the smokers company.
All this communication technology we have built has only succeeded in removing personal interaction. Cell phones, e-mail and text messaging is a way to avoid conversation. Not help it. And when we find that our world is lonely, we sign up for computer dating. Call it whatever you want, but it is computer dating.
We have removed poetry from the world. Do you know what I mean by that? Nothing is allowed to happen naturally anymore. When was the last time you heard of a friend meeting some in public? It's almost weird to hear such stories. Internet commercials for hot girls wanting to meet me flash by in the margins of myspace and facebook, my spam folder is over flowing with pleas from other hot girls that want to meet me. All the girls they use to market these services do not look like they need such services. They are always young hot and sometimes partially dressed.
You can't meet a guy?
I tried it once. It was a long process, but eventually I had a "date." I put it in quotation marks because we were not physically in the same place. It happened entirely with the aid of a camera and our computers. In the middle of the conversation she picked up her phone to text message someone. This is intimacy now? This is what passes for getting to know someone?
The goal of the second date is no longer the blow job. Nope. The goal of the second date seems to be seeing them in person.
"Dude, last night I got to third base with this new chick I am seeing."
"Third base! She sent you a photo of herself on her phone? Damn!"
"If I play my cards right, I might get to see her live!"
This is modern romance now.
Monday, July 28, 2008
No Longer Angry
I don’t know when it happened, but recently I woke up and the anger I had carried around toward my X was gone. I don’t know why either. It just wasn’t there anymore. That place inside me where truths that are too painful for the light of day was simply less heavy.
It just burned out I guess. Anger like that bleeds heat like radiation. It takes effort to maintain. I nursed it. As time moved on and I didn’t, it became the last thing I had that connected me to her. It is so cliché and so ridiculous. I would go on walks where I would deliver a well-rehearsed speech about all of her betrayals. A speech that got better and better every time I gave it alone in the dark, but a speech that would never be heard either. For so long it was just a part of me. I didn’t fight it or question it. It consumed me like a cancer. For a while I was simply a wound. I did not hate her but my anger at her could not be resolved let alone dissolved. So I carried it with me. It became as familiar to me as my eye color or a mole I have had since childhood. Then one day I was sitting in a café on the weekend drinking coffee and I realized something was missing. I could not say what was missing. I just felt different. Only after sorting through the inner architecture did I notice it. My anger had spent itself. It had gone out in the same way it had started.
I remember three distinct times in my life when I woke up on a morning and realized I was in love with someone. Not having that fire inside me anymore felt the same now. It was a revelation, a relief in everyway. Now what? I think I kept the anger for so long because it allowed me to not look at my own shit. It wasn’t really denial; it was just a louder voice at the table inside my head. No matter what was going on, that anger was present. Yelling, screaming, demeaning words at a ghost. That’s all I was doing; belittling a ghost that wasn’t giving me any thought. It didn’t matter how many times someone pointed this out to me. It didn’t matter that I knew that I was inflicted with a disease I did not want a cure for. All that drove me in the course of my day and every choice I arrived at came through that anger. Not a wall or a cloud, nothing like fog or sadness, it was acid. I had done all the crying and was done with that. But the anger would not leave.
She contacted me a few times at random intervals. Always e-mails. When I first responded I told her I was angry. I told her why I was so angry and told her there was no reason for me to speak with her. We weren’t getting back together and I certainly don’t need a friend I can’t trust. She responded with a sarcastic e-mail about my e-mail response to her! She said it vibrated with anger. No shit. What made me more pissed was that she never even thought I had a right to be angry. Then I thought, that whole year we spent back together, she never once sincerely or otherwise tried to apologize for cheating on me. There was the occasional sorry when the conversation strayed toward the topic, but it was always an abrupt sorry. I should have understood; there was no future for me with this woman. Love has a way of blinding you though.
Those occasional e-mails I would get from her always lacked a basic awareness of the harm she had done. I wasn’t looking for some elegant fall on my sword apology, but not once did she ever make the attempt to understand why I would be so angry. My God! We moved in together down in L.A. and with in six months it was over. I was broke, depressed, had no car and now my girlfriend didn’t want me anymore. She was cheating too. Something I found out after the initial shock of being told she didn’t love me anymore and didn’t want to live with me. It was like a movie where the bad shit just didn’t stop happening. The entire breaking up process was dragged out and made more difficult by her. If there was a way to make things more humiliating, she found it. Try figuring out what you can take with you in a rented car while your X girlfriends best friend and Father sit on a couch you bought as they watch you do this. Keep in mind the only reason I had rented the car and was now trying to figure out what I could take and what had to be left behind, was the night before she text messaged me. Even though she had agreed to let me leave my until I could get them, she now wanted everything of mine gone or she would throw it away.
Stuff like that is like radiation. It will keep burning you and burning you from the inside out long after it has happened.
She would hint at the fact that I did not seem angry in that year we were back together. True. I was happy to be back together and since we still lived in separate cities, we agreed to wait till she moved here to do the hard part of sitting down and working this shit out. But that’s the thing. We didn’t sit down and work this shit out. For a year, I held my anger. It was stupid. A good portion of that rage was at myself for being like that.
As time went on all that remained of our romance was white-hot anger. I told her so in her last e-mail. She did not bother to write back or ask why. Then again, I asked her not to contact me anymore. The biggest reason I was angry, the unforgivable sin she had committed besides the obvious one, was her good-bye to me the second time around.
It came down to this. She agreed to move to San Francisco and a month latter she was calling me with anxiety about our relationship. All that talk of someday and moving on had sunk in. She realized that she was moving to San Francisco. Her career would be far more difficult to start in this city. There would a lot of shit to work out between us. She didn’t talk to me about this. I am sure it caused her a great deal of inner turmoil. I say that, because on my last visit to see her in L.A. I found a girl whose size double zero jeans hung off her frame. She had stopped eating again. She was now burning instead of cutting. At night, she would drink wine and smoke with a roommate who made our drama look like a comedy. Every negative behavior she had ever done had come back and then some. Of course I was concerned. Of course I was worried. What could I do?
Here are the two groups of people I would split the world into. One group tells you what they are thinking and gives you some idea of the actions they will take. The other group takes actions and lets you figure out exactly what that means inside them and inside you.
She was the take action type.
Her large brown eyes, now sunken and dull, implored me to stay. She wanted to be taken care of. She didn’t want to come here or deal with all that needed to be dragged out into the light. She was now asking me in action to do for her what she could not do for me when I needed help. At one point, without having directly talked about it, she said to me, I don't want to ask you to stay.
But you did.
She was putting me in the position of having to stay. My feelings for her were now a trap. A trap to get things the way she wanted them. I would stay with her in L.A. to get her healthy again. But I didn’t. You have to understand that after our break up I came back to San Francisco. It was awful. I felt suicidal for at least the first month and remained in a dark dark place for well over a year. I rebuilt myself though. I came to terms with the loss and went about the business of getting healthy. Good things flowed from that. I had a legit job with benefits and the biggest paycheck I ever got on a regular basis. Gigs were coming in too. I had managed to save money, buy a car and make myself relevant again in the San Francisco comedy scene. Now she wanted me to come back to L.A. and help her. I couldn’t do it. It struck me right there in that moment as she silently prepared herself to drive me to the airport. She told me she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave the house and I would have to find some other way to the airport. I knew then. I knew it like you know there is going to be rain. You feel a slight awareness inside. That’s all. This one registered.
After I told her I was going she left the room and called her grandmother. Of course retired rich Grandma would come to town and save the day as she had before. She didn’t even wait with me for the airport shuttle. Only when I gathered my bag to wait outside did she follow me out to the gate. When the van came we kissed good-bye. I think she knew it then too. I did not make the choice to leave out of anger, but I was amazed at her lack of understanding. Did she see the situation she was putting me in? Did she see that I was in this condition and was given no choice when she asked me to leave her life? At the time I was not angry. I was hurt with the knowledge that things had ended again with someone I truly loved. It would take time and a few fumbled attempts at contact from her for that to finally come out in anger. Maybe she wasn’t trying to trap me. Maybe. But after I left she made a rapid recovery. In fact, she would meet another man and decide to live with him when they moved to a new town together to start a life.
The thing is, if I didn’t have what I had rebuilt here, I might have stayed. But I had rebuilt my life. She was asking for so much without even allowing me to be angry at the original situation. How was that suppose to work? We would sleep together in the same bed and on the days we were not in couple’s therapy, she would go to the doctor for help with her anorexia?
A year latter and everything was reversed. Kind of. I wasn’t kicking her out and being unresponsive to talking about things. I wasn’t throwing her away because she was broken. I just needed to have my anger acknowledged. How do you ask a person literally starving them self to death that you need time to be mad at them? It was an impossible situation. There was no way it was healthy for me to stay and no way to keep her in my life if I left. More than anything else, even the cheating, this became the ember that never died out. I have played that day over and over again in my head. I wasn’t going to yell at a sick person.
Writing this, I feel the edges again. You can never hope to close a wound of this nature completely. Just as you wake up one morning and realize you have fallen in love with someone, I woke up one day and wasn’t mad at them anymore. Now what?
Friday, July 25, 2008
Adult?
At some point I have self destruction in every relationship I have been in with a woman. I fell apart and wanted to be taken care of. Thats one theory I have been told. I prefer to think they were all two timing whores. It's not pretty language but it's an easier myth to buy than to see my part in things. Besides, what do those guys twice my age and a wall full of degrees know anyway?
My guy is a decent man. He doesn't remember in detail, but I can't decide if it's bad memory, being too busy, or he doesn't care. I think he cares but he is too busy. We talk. He writes prescriptions for sleeping pills and anti-depressants. I tell him about my quest to become an adult. Thats literally what we talk about. It kinda feels like that might be common, but there it is; I don't feel like an adult.
It's not what I thought it would be. I never felt it happen. It is probably a dumb thing to reveal. Did you feel it? What was the moment or action that brought it on? Did it feel like that, like a switch flipped or something just seemed right? What is it? I didn't feel it. For better or worse degrees, I have not grown up. Not in the way I imagined. Instead, this feels like some strange land I wondered into by mistake as I was just walking along. Things are familiar yet the colors are drab. Wonder is scarce and responsibility is heavy. I am a child in a mans body. A broken body, slowed down by years of that someday I will eat right diet and late night food. Still, I thought it would be different. I thought things would be easier because I would be an adult and adults know how to handle stuff. Nope. Turns out I am not alone in this feeling. Adults don't know any better than kids, really. Adults just have more stuff that can go wrong and more pressure to get things right. At some point I think you realize that school was complete bull shit. The book stuff comes in handy and socializing is important, but everything we were taught about sharing, respecting others and playing fair is not how the world operates. Sure, you can be the good guy and do all those things. I am not saying people don't. I think most of us live in a world of compromises. Nothing is ever black and white. Nothing. There are shades to every choice and every choice leads to several other branches that lead to still more doors. Maybe thats not right either. It feels like possibility becomes a precious resource that starts to dissolve over time. And here is the thing I know about me; I know what the right thing to do is every time. I really do. Sadly, I only chose to do the right thing about 45% of the time. I am not talking stealing or breaking store windows in anger, I am talking about those little white lies we all use to navigate our way in social situations or the short cut you take at work and hope people don't notice. It's the difference between sitting down at the computer and working on my act or downloading more porn to what I can only imagine is a very sticky hard drive at this point in my computers life. Being an adult seems to take place between what is said and what is not said. It is knowing how to read what takes place in that intersection that makes you a successful adult. At a certain point you realize the things you wanted to have or do are not going to be. I am never going to be a singer song writer now. For a large portion of my life there was a vague idea that was always present inside me that ultimately that is what I would be. I had the guitars, had 60 or so songs and even recorders. I haven't touched my guitar in about a year. When I think of that, it makes me sad. All those years I spent driving around doing comedy from one shitty location to the next shitty location, I would not have survived if it wasn't for my guitar. Countless hours were spent in run down hotel rooms writing songs I couldn't play for anyone. Instead, I just told jokes rather than really tell people what I felt. But that dream, that idea that I would eventually over come that brand of stage fright and start to play in front of audiences never came to be. Each new years that came and went carried with it the resolution to try and play at a open Mic. It never happened. I never did it and now the guitar sits in the corner as a symbol of something I can't think about for too long or I feel the trap of regret spring on me. That becomes a regular emotion, regret.
What are you suppose to tell children? You can't sit them down and tell them that life is not going to be the adventure you think it's going to be. When parents give you the realistic speech, as it came to be known in my house, it doesn't register. I didn't think I knew better than my parents, I just knew I didn't want what they had. I thought that would be enough. I thought that alone would create a life different from what their lives had become. My life is nothing like my parents, but like them, I have invisible baggage that is not always easy to claim. Everyone must. That is part of growing up. Life is not bad or boring for me, it just isn't the shape I thought it would be when I had the luxury of not knowing any better. Not knowing has saved me from being crushed. Sometimes. Not knowing has also launched me into whole decades that turned out to be vast detours I had to back out from. Stand-up comedy was one of those. Not knowing how hard it was going to be and not knowing the amount of self I would pour into it, prevented me from ever thinking realistically about it. I still think there is a chance I could be a star in it. I don't know, maybe that idea will someday rest with the guitar in my room. Until it does, I will keep doing it though. Too much of my identity is wrapped up in it now to ever really stop. Drugs. That was something I had to back out of more than a few times and still don't fully have the entire situation under control. By that I mean, the craving to be else where without actually moving makes drugs a powerful force in every adults life. This is San Francisco. I can't go a day without smelling pot drift across my path somewhere. The very first time I smoked pot I thought to myself, now I understand why there are drug addicts. That scared me enough to not try it again for a long time. When I did pick it back up again in my middle 20's, it lead to doors I have since tried to never knock at again and profound grief in how it dissolved me. Pot really was a gate way. I told a friend once that what I liked most about it was the way it made me feel like a kid. It did. When I was a boy, I loved the borders of paintings and pictures. I could sit and look at them in books or on school walls and what really fascinated me was the implication of everything that happened outside the frame. We were only looking through a small square window into another world. When I first got high, I felt like all that went on just past the picture frames was coming into focus. Its a weird way of explaining it I suppose, but it was a potent sensation I reached into again and again only to come back with empty hands. Cynicism became a shell I lived in. Still do to a slightly lesser degree, but like a hermit crab, I wear it on my back and scurry awkwardly into it when trouble shows up. Hard to say what exactly built such a thick insulating shell, but I don't blame any one person or event for it. Maybe it is like an emotional calcium deposit that naturally builds up over time. The thing that seems the hardest to resolve as an adult are the loves that ended. When i look at my early 20's, I see a man who was heart broken over the loss of a girlfriend. That feeling, more than anything else defined who I was for a very long time. What replaced her was another loss. What replaced that girl was all my reaching into borders. That blew a few years. When I met Sam, I had resolved myself to being alone. I wasn't sad at this thought or mournful anymore. I felt strangely OK with the idea and felt a certain comfort even freedom in it. You know when you hear, don't look for love and you will find it? This is the state of mind I think people are talking about. It wasn't that I had given up, I finally felt comfortable with who I was and what my situation seemed to be. That felt very adult. That was also the moment a beautiful girl showed up in my life who continues to haunt me with what if. What if, what a fucking useless wish what if turns out to be. You beat it and beat it and the very thing you don't want to see again just falls out with all the shrapnel of any bomb going off in your face. More than any other expression, what if seems to be where much of my adult life has unfolded. After all the self help books, therapy, programs, girlfriends and professional successes, what if is a living thing that you can only hope to diminish. One part of this has dropped away from my thinking. The idea that anyone or anything is "normal" now seems ridiculous to me. Normal is societies greatest lie. It is a standard that we are all pushed toward as children but come to find out later in life is a convenient myth. Normal doesn't exist. I doubt if it ever did.
Somewhere in all this is an adult. Maybe only in age, but I am an adult. Funny, I didn't think it would feel like this at all.
My guy is a decent man. He doesn't remember in detail, but I can't decide if it's bad memory, being too busy, or he doesn't care. I think he cares but he is too busy. We talk. He writes prescriptions for sleeping pills and anti-depressants. I tell him about my quest to become an adult. Thats literally what we talk about. It kinda feels like that might be common, but there it is; I don't feel like an adult.
It's not what I thought it would be. I never felt it happen. It is probably a dumb thing to reveal. Did you feel it? What was the moment or action that brought it on? Did it feel like that, like a switch flipped or something just seemed right? What is it? I didn't feel it. For better or worse degrees, I have not grown up. Not in the way I imagined. Instead, this feels like some strange land I wondered into by mistake as I was just walking along. Things are familiar yet the colors are drab. Wonder is scarce and responsibility is heavy. I am a child in a mans body. A broken body, slowed down by years of that someday I will eat right diet and late night food. Still, I thought it would be different. I thought things would be easier because I would be an adult and adults know how to handle stuff. Nope. Turns out I am not alone in this feeling. Adults don't know any better than kids, really. Adults just have more stuff that can go wrong and more pressure to get things right. At some point I think you realize that school was complete bull shit. The book stuff comes in handy and socializing is important, but everything we were taught about sharing, respecting others and playing fair is not how the world operates. Sure, you can be the good guy and do all those things. I am not saying people don't. I think most of us live in a world of compromises. Nothing is ever black and white. Nothing. There are shades to every choice and every choice leads to several other branches that lead to still more doors. Maybe thats not right either. It feels like possibility becomes a precious resource that starts to dissolve over time. And here is the thing I know about me; I know what the right thing to do is every time. I really do. Sadly, I only chose to do the right thing about 45% of the time. I am not talking stealing or breaking store windows in anger, I am talking about those little white lies we all use to navigate our way in social situations or the short cut you take at work and hope people don't notice. It's the difference between sitting down at the computer and working on my act or downloading more porn to what I can only imagine is a very sticky hard drive at this point in my computers life. Being an adult seems to take place between what is said and what is not said. It is knowing how to read what takes place in that intersection that makes you a successful adult. At a certain point you realize the things you wanted to have or do are not going to be. I am never going to be a singer song writer now. For a large portion of my life there was a vague idea that was always present inside me that ultimately that is what I would be. I had the guitars, had 60 or so songs and even recorders. I haven't touched my guitar in about a year. When I think of that, it makes me sad. All those years I spent driving around doing comedy from one shitty location to the next shitty location, I would not have survived if it wasn't for my guitar. Countless hours were spent in run down hotel rooms writing songs I couldn't play for anyone. Instead, I just told jokes rather than really tell people what I felt. But that dream, that idea that I would eventually over come that brand of stage fright and start to play in front of audiences never came to be. Each new years that came and went carried with it the resolution to try and play at a open Mic. It never happened. I never did it and now the guitar sits in the corner as a symbol of something I can't think about for too long or I feel the trap of regret spring on me. That becomes a regular emotion, regret.
What are you suppose to tell children? You can't sit them down and tell them that life is not going to be the adventure you think it's going to be. When parents give you the realistic speech, as it came to be known in my house, it doesn't register. I didn't think I knew better than my parents, I just knew I didn't want what they had. I thought that would be enough. I thought that alone would create a life different from what their lives had become. My life is nothing like my parents, but like them, I have invisible baggage that is not always easy to claim. Everyone must. That is part of growing up. Life is not bad or boring for me, it just isn't the shape I thought it would be when I had the luxury of not knowing any better. Not knowing has saved me from being crushed. Sometimes. Not knowing has also launched me into whole decades that turned out to be vast detours I had to back out from. Stand-up comedy was one of those. Not knowing how hard it was going to be and not knowing the amount of self I would pour into it, prevented me from ever thinking realistically about it. I still think there is a chance I could be a star in it. I don't know, maybe that idea will someday rest with the guitar in my room. Until it does, I will keep doing it though. Too much of my identity is wrapped up in it now to ever really stop. Drugs. That was something I had to back out of more than a few times and still don't fully have the entire situation under control. By that I mean, the craving to be else where without actually moving makes drugs a powerful force in every adults life. This is San Francisco. I can't go a day without smelling pot drift across my path somewhere. The very first time I smoked pot I thought to myself, now I understand why there are drug addicts. That scared me enough to not try it again for a long time. When I did pick it back up again in my middle 20's, it lead to doors I have since tried to never knock at again and profound grief in how it dissolved me. Pot really was a gate way. I told a friend once that what I liked most about it was the way it made me feel like a kid. It did. When I was a boy, I loved the borders of paintings and pictures. I could sit and look at them in books or on school walls and what really fascinated me was the implication of everything that happened outside the frame. We were only looking through a small square window into another world. When I first got high, I felt like all that went on just past the picture frames was coming into focus. Its a weird way of explaining it I suppose, but it was a potent sensation I reached into again and again only to come back with empty hands. Cynicism became a shell I lived in. Still do to a slightly lesser degree, but like a hermit crab, I wear it on my back and scurry awkwardly into it when trouble shows up. Hard to say what exactly built such a thick insulating shell, but I don't blame any one person or event for it. Maybe it is like an emotional calcium deposit that naturally builds up over time. The thing that seems the hardest to resolve as an adult are the loves that ended. When i look at my early 20's, I see a man who was heart broken over the loss of a girlfriend. That feeling, more than anything else defined who I was for a very long time. What replaced her was another loss. What replaced that girl was all my reaching into borders. That blew a few years. When I met Sam, I had resolved myself to being alone. I wasn't sad at this thought or mournful anymore. I felt strangely OK with the idea and felt a certain comfort even freedom in it. You know when you hear, don't look for love and you will find it? This is the state of mind I think people are talking about. It wasn't that I had given up, I finally felt comfortable with who I was and what my situation seemed to be. That felt very adult. That was also the moment a beautiful girl showed up in my life who continues to haunt me with what if. What if, what a fucking useless wish what if turns out to be. You beat it and beat it and the very thing you don't want to see again just falls out with all the shrapnel of any bomb going off in your face. More than any other expression, what if seems to be where much of my adult life has unfolded. After all the self help books, therapy, programs, girlfriends and professional successes, what if is a living thing that you can only hope to diminish. One part of this has dropped away from my thinking. The idea that anyone or anything is "normal" now seems ridiculous to me. Normal is societies greatest lie. It is a standard that we are all pushed toward as children but come to find out later in life is a convenient myth. Normal doesn't exist. I doubt if it ever did.
Somewhere in all this is an adult. Maybe only in age, but I am an adult. Funny, I didn't think it would feel like this at all.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Runway
WASHINGTON - John McCain and Barack Obama vow to reform the nation's defense procurement if elected president, yet each is unwilling to take a firm stand against the skyrocketing cost of a plum White House perk: the new Marine One helicopter.
The project is now projected to cost $11.2 billion.
The fleet of helicopters cost $400 million apiece. The British have bought the same base model helicopter for $57 million each.
The project is now projected to cost $11.2 billion.
The fleet of helicopters cost $400 million apiece. The British have bought the same base model helicopter for $57 million each.
Wow! I did a little research. That $11.2 Billion is for 22 helicopters. When ever the president is aboard one of them, it is called Marine one. It is usually accompanied by two or three as decoys. The most common flight it makes is from the White House to Andrews Air Force Base where the president boards Air force One.
It takes ten minuets.
Wouldn't it be cheaper to just build a runway for Air Force One next to the White House?
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