Fri - February 24, 2006
Moving on...
Well, there ain't gonna be anymore posts
here.
The days of the brother blog have moved on. Now it's time to don't be a jerk...
The days of the brother blog have moved on. Now it's time to don't be a jerk...
Posted at 01:12 AM Read More |
Tue - February 14, 2006
Ugh...
It's 1am Monday night, and I've been in my
pajamas for at least the last 36 hour straight, cause I'm sick. Again. I was
getting the sniffles on Thursday and Friday, but it didn't really kick in until
Saturday
evening.
***
On another note, I broke up with Suzy on Saturday afternoon, and by "broke up" I mean "sold". And by "Suzy" I mean my motorcycle.
Yup. No more bike. Now I'm a 31 year old single male who drives a minivan. And nothing else. Just a minivan...that I sometimes call "Herbert".
I saw this one coming for awhile. Suzy needed a good amount of work done that I don't have the money for, so I rode her down to the local shop; they gave me an acceptable offer; I asked them to find her a good home; and that was that. I actually got a little choked up. It really was like breaking up. I even had a real brief, crazy idea to go buy her back today.
Like I said, I did this on Saturday afternoon. By Saturday evening, I was passed out on the couch having feverish dreams and occasionally waking up to sip theraflu.
***
Recently, though, I've decided that I am currently sick of wearing a helmet. I've also been bothered by how I've developed a disturbing lack of visceral response to riding in Los Angeles. When you have daily near-death experiences on the freeway, you start deadening a necessary survival instinct. And I've also realized that having a bike is not as inexpensive as I had originally believed. Any amount of money I've saved on gas has easily been negated by registration, insurance, and repair costs.
***
I don't think I'm materialistic in the general sense. I am attached to my "things" but mostly because of what they represent. For example, I've always doted on my computers because they are usually an emblem of my productivity at the time, and I try to get as much use and life out of each one that I own.
I got this motorcycle - a blue, used, 2001 Suzuki SV650 - on the day of my 27th birthday. It was my quarter-life crisis present to myself. I hate that term, but that's really what I was having.
The bike was very appropriate for me at the time. Motorcycling is a predominantly individual pursuit. For the most part, there is only one rider per bike. Bikes may travel in groups, but they are not a group so much as they are a set of individuals riding together. Even in these groups, the standard of one rider per machine and a helmet usually brings this point of separation home. Riding is an individual thing. Not necessarily a lonely thing, but an alone thing.
Within six months of getting the motorcycle, I took a week-long road trip up to Seattle and back, by myself. I mention this to a lot of people, but I rarely tell them a lot about it. Not that there is that much to tell. For the most part, it was a week alone. It was exactly what I needed at the time. Describing it would be trite, and, really, the experience was not remarkable. But for me, at that particular time in my life, it was profound.
***
These days, I haven't been riding much anyway. I don't ride up the PCH on weekends. I don't take road trips anymore. I don't comb my hair down because that's the only way you can style it when you wear a helmet everyday.
Instead, I drive. I listen to the radio. I return messages on my cell phone while I go from place to place. Occasionally I load up the extra 6 seats in Herbert and take people places. Can't do that on a motorcycle.
***
davidjlee.com is taken (no big surprise.) Gonna stick with the ol' trickstergod domain. New site will be going up soon, and then it's goodbye iBlog...
***
On another note, I broke up with Suzy on Saturday afternoon, and by "broke up" I mean "sold". And by "Suzy" I mean my motorcycle.
Yup. No more bike. Now I'm a 31 year old single male who drives a minivan. And nothing else. Just a minivan...that I sometimes call "Herbert".
I saw this one coming for awhile. Suzy needed a good amount of work done that I don't have the money for, so I rode her down to the local shop; they gave me an acceptable offer; I asked them to find her a good home; and that was that. I actually got a little choked up. It really was like breaking up. I even had a real brief, crazy idea to go buy her back today.
Like I said, I did this on Saturday afternoon. By Saturday evening, I was passed out on the couch having feverish dreams and occasionally waking up to sip theraflu.
***
Recently, though, I've decided that I am currently sick of wearing a helmet. I've also been bothered by how I've developed a disturbing lack of visceral response to riding in Los Angeles. When you have daily near-death experiences on the freeway, you start deadening a necessary survival instinct. And I've also realized that having a bike is not as inexpensive as I had originally believed. Any amount of money I've saved on gas has easily been negated by registration, insurance, and repair costs.
***
I don't think I'm materialistic in the general sense. I am attached to my "things" but mostly because of what they represent. For example, I've always doted on my computers because they are usually an emblem of my productivity at the time, and I try to get as much use and life out of each one that I own.
I got this motorcycle - a blue, used, 2001 Suzuki SV650 - on the day of my 27th birthday. It was my quarter-life crisis present to myself. I hate that term, but that's really what I was having.
The bike was very appropriate for me at the time. Motorcycling is a predominantly individual pursuit. For the most part, there is only one rider per bike. Bikes may travel in groups, but they are not a group so much as they are a set of individuals riding together. Even in these groups, the standard of one rider per machine and a helmet usually brings this point of separation home. Riding is an individual thing. Not necessarily a lonely thing, but an alone thing.
Within six months of getting the motorcycle, I took a week-long road trip up to Seattle and back, by myself. I mention this to a lot of people, but I rarely tell them a lot about it. Not that there is that much to tell. For the most part, it was a week alone. It was exactly what I needed at the time. Describing it would be trite, and, really, the experience was not remarkable. But for me, at that particular time in my life, it was profound.
***
These days, I haven't been riding much anyway. I don't ride up the PCH on weekends. I don't take road trips anymore. I don't comb my hair down because that's the only way you can style it when you wear a helmet everyday.
Instead, I drive. I listen to the radio. I return messages on my cell phone while I go from place to place. Occasionally I load up the extra 6 seats in Herbert and take people places. Can't do that on a motorcycle.
***
davidjlee.com is taken (no big surprise.) Gonna stick with the ol' trickstergod domain. New site will be going up soon, and then it's goodbye iBlog...
Posted at 01:59 AM Read More |
Mon - February 6, 2006
Fri - February 3, 2006
The bandwagon...
Got a new powerbook. It's an older 15" G4/1.5, but it's a beauty and it gets the job done. Anyhow, it came with iLife '06 so I think I'm going to be moving my blog over to iWeb soon now that Freddie has test run it for me. Plus, Mike G setting up his new site has reminded me that I really need to work on an acting-related website.
***
Two major things have happened this year so far. First, I shot a Visa commercial (with which I hope to eventually pay off that new powerbook which is currently taking up space on my credit card - coincidentally also a Visa. God, life's a hoot.)
Secondly, I got the flu. Bad bad flu - possibly the worst I've had in years. I could actually feel my body breaking down, though that part may simply have been a fever-induced delusion.
So I'm bed ridden for a full day, woozy for the next three, and spacey for another week after that. And in that week, I'm disturbed to discover that I'm having a hard time reading newspaper-sized print.
Fucking brilliant. I done went and pulled a Helen Keller. I got so sick that I made myself even blinder. After 3 years of my vision remaining stable, now I fucked myself up worse. I should have rested in a dark room instead of watching "Lost" and "House MD" and playing video games.
Yesterday, I go to the eye doctor to find out the extent of the damage, and you know what?
My prescription has gotten half a point better than before. I walked out of there wearing a sample pair of contacts that were weaker than the ones I walked in with.
Sweet Holy Moses, I am fucking invincible. I'll keep you updated next week on the progress of my appendix, which is undoubtedly growing back as I write this.
***
Today I had lunch with the aforementioned Mike G. and KimHOUY (to be pronounced as such with vein-popping intensity.) Kimmie is currently reading Where the Red Fern Grows. During our discussion, I inadvertently gave away the ending of the book, which made me feel like an ass. I also remembered that the first time I read the book was when I was in grammar school, and I actually finished it while I was on a plane.
So...near the end of the book...oh fuck it all -
At the end of the book the dogs die. There.
I can't write this entry without pretty much giving away that point. At the end of Titanic, the boat fucking sinks. At the end of Band of Brothers, Germany loses. And at the end of Where the Red Fern Grows, the dogs fucking die. If you haven't read the book yet, don't get bitchy, because I guarantee that knowing this fact will not, in any way, prevent you from turning into a blubbering mess of tears and snot when you actually read it.
So yeah, anyway...I just remembered that I was on a plane when I got to that part, and I started tearing up, and had to put the book down and go to the bathroom so that I could cry uncontrollably. Then I'd come back out to my seat and read a little bit more, then hurry back to the bathroom to do some more crying. Can't remember how many times I had to do that. Read a little, lose composure, run to the bathroom sobbing uncontrollably. Took me hours to finish the last part of the book.
Don't know what the point of telling you all that was. Normally writing something like this would make me feel like a sissy, but if you've read the book then you know. You know.
***
I brought Mike G to the cast/crew screening of the Randall Park co-written indie film, American Fusion, in which I play a small role. The movie was fun! I'm really happy for the director, Frank, and hope it gets sold. I suspect that Mike G is a little gay for Esai Morales. Must remember to invite hot female friends over for lunch to steer him back to good, Christian, hetero urges.
After the screening, Mike asked me, "How did you feel about seeing yourself up there?" I didn't quite understand the question and just blew it off with how pretty much anyone could have done that role (which is true.)
But I realized that this is the first time that I've ever watched myself on screen in a real movie theater, with an audience. When my two-minute scene came up, it had been tense and weird for me. When it was over, I quickly relaxed.
When The Achievers goes up at the SF Asian Am Film Festival next month, there's going to be a lot more people and I'm going to be on screen for a lot longer. Not quite sure what that's going to be like. I'm used to people watching me act. I'm not used to watching people watching me act.
***
That's all for now. No shit - I'm gonna go to laughingsquid.com now and buy up www.davidjlee.com
Posted at 01:15 AM Read More |
Fri - December 30, 2005
Espanya
Got back from Barcelona on Sunday.
During the trip, my dad and I had this..."moment". I'll just leave it at that.
Anyhow, ever since Sunday I've been futilely trying to get my sleep cycle back on track. Here are some pics:
First picture on the roll!
When La Sagrada Familia Attacks!
In Las Ramblas, we randomly found the hostel that Hieu and I stayed at when we did the whole Europe backpacking thing five years ago.
For the two days that we visited Las Ramblas, we saw this outside the Aquarium. You can even see the little "Recycling Bin" icon in the bottom right. For 2 frickin days. I love Spain and Spanish people, but this is why they will never be a true world power. Any society that shuts down from 3pm to 9pm for a nap will never get it's shit together enough to kick some ass. Seriously, guys, somebody wake up up and reboot the damn computer.
Barcelona has a cool aquarium. Whenever I travel, if there's an aquarium in the area, I visit it. I like aquariums.
Take a long, good look. It's going to be awhile before you see another picture where my sister's making the face and I'm acting normal.
On that note -
I don't really have a good explanation for this.
Nor for this.
Ditto.
This is a view from some palace art museum. The Olympic Stadium is right behind it.
My dad acting weird.
My dad deciding that I deserve a little weird as well.
On that note -
My dad has a very small, but very nice Casio digital camera, and since we packed light for the trip, we only used that camera. When we left the camera with my dad, this is what he would take pictures of:
Cats....
...other cats...
...and windows.
It wasn't long before we took the camera away from him. Every once in awhile he'd get fussy about it, but we'd just give him a cardboard box or something to play with and he'd usually get distracted with that and settle down.
Anyhow, continuing -
I'm a unicorn.
That's the Olympic Stadium behind us. That's also me getting sick of taking pictures.
Amy was starting to feel the same way.
Wanna-be art student photo #1
This is from the main cathedral in Valencia. They claim that this is the actual Holy Grail -
- I call bullshit...But then again, my dad did drink from some cup that was next to it, and then he turned into dust. And then me and Amy said, "You chose poorly!" And then we laughed. We laughed so hard because we're clever.
This is not a posed shot. My dad was actually doing this and we snuck this photo of him.
You know, you may notice that I don't include many pictures of my mom here. That's because my mom is boring - mainly because she is intelligent and well-behaved. My dad, however, is a big-headed mongol. We took lots of pictures of him.
Continuing...
Except for old town, Valencia pretty much looks like Detroit in most cases, but it has an even better aquarium than Barcelona...
...and in this aquarium, what does Amy see...?
Flying fish! These things are thoroughly creepy. They look part fish, part locust, part alien.
Moments after this picture was taken, this seal slammed into my sister's head.
They had Beluga whales. This baby Beluga bonded with my sister. Then it also slammed into her head.
Wanna-be art student photo #2. The Mall. Everyone smokes indoors in Spain so you can always see rays of light near windows.
Wanna-be art student photo #3. The train station in Valencia.
Last picture on the roll!
Posted at 12:13 AM Read More |
Sat - December 10, 2005
crap that makes people feel stupid
There was a movie that came out last year called
Primer. It's about time travel. It's also utter
crap.
The movie takes too long getting to the meat of the story (the time travel.) The acting is mostly prattle. An inordinate amount of energy is spent on techo-babble and explicit ways of explaining how the time travel actually works. And on top of all this, the movie is completely unintelligible. The multiple timelines are impossible to follow and the plotline basically becomes a mass of tangled hair. I even went online to read other peoples' breakdowns of the plot, and even then, the movie still comes off as too convoluted and poorly executed.
In interviews, the director states that everything in the movie is intentional, and that it all makes sense if you really study it. His purpose was to make you think. He wants people to try to figure out what happens (which, by the way, is impossible.)
See my problems is that I'm not so concerned about what happens in a movie as I am with what it all means in the end. Memento is a good example of this. The "what happens" is a mystery, but eventually is explained and is understandable and not really important in the end because what's really important is what it all means: the "why" it was all important.
I feel bad harshing on it that much because it was the filmmaker's first feature, and I've seen worse.
But the fucking thing won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, so my standards of judgement go up a bit.
WTF?
I think people, especially people in high places don't like to look dumb. I'm sure that there are a some of people that look at a Picasso and really appreciate the genius behind it. I'm also sure that the vast majority of people that "appreciate" Picasso are just trying not to look like uncultured dipshits.
I think the people who gave Primer the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance just didn't want to look like stupid dipshits so they pretended like they understood it, which is totally impossible. The stupid liars.
***
So anyways, I watched Syriana today with the buddies. I was so relieved when Rick turned to me 45 minutes into the movie and asked, "Are you as lost as I am?" The movie made me feel dumb. Especially since it's been getting such good reviews. Even Mike G with his enormous, enormous brain couldn't explain the movie to us. I think I like Stephen Gaghan's scripts better when Steven Soderbergh directs them.
This is what the movie is about, from what I remember:
George Clooney is fat and hairy and does dangerous, illicit work for the US government in the middle east. Something to do with weapons sales and...oh fuck it. I don't know. At some point he gets betrayed and hurries his ass back to the middle east to do something. Not quite sure what, but it seemed pretty important.
Matt Damon, thankfully has the most understandable story line. He goes to a party thrown by some mid-east royalty. His kid dies at the party, and because of that, Matt Damon starts working for the prince of the kingdom. He starts being a dick to his own family after that. Oh also, the prince of the kingdom has this brother who I swear is flaming gay, but they never really say it outright. Maybe he's just straight and utterly fabulous.
There's this black lawyer guy whose firm is brokering a merger between two huge oil companies in Texas. I don't know what this black lawyer's name is, but the government keeps pressuring him to be a snitch and he also knows Christopher Plummer who is very important and rich and powerful and has a very expensive home security system in his house. I think George Clooney breaks his expensive alarm system at one point, but they talk later, and Christopher Plummer never makes him pay for it. Man, if someone broke my very expensive alarm system, I'd sure make them pay for it.
Anyway, whenever this black lawyer guy goes home, there's this older, angry black dude always sitting on his front steps. This older black dude might be the black lawyer guy's father, but I'll never know, because I had pretty much given up on trying to understand the movie about 15 minutes into it.
There's also a couple of Persian kids that they follow, but they mostly just play soccer and eventually go blow something up. I knew something was going to blow up. Once I gave up trying to understand the movie, I just waited the next hour and 45 minutes for what I was sure would be a spectacular explosion. It wasn't that good tho.
Syriana sucks. I'd recommend watching King Kong instead. It comes out next week.
***
R.I.P. Richard Pryor.
***
Oh, and found a new roommate, BTW. Forgot to mention that. Thank god that got taken care of pretty quickly.
The movie takes too long getting to the meat of the story (the time travel.) The acting is mostly prattle. An inordinate amount of energy is spent on techo-babble and explicit ways of explaining how the time travel actually works. And on top of all this, the movie is completely unintelligible. The multiple timelines are impossible to follow and the plotline basically becomes a mass of tangled hair. I even went online to read other peoples' breakdowns of the plot, and even then, the movie still comes off as too convoluted and poorly executed.
In interviews, the director states that everything in the movie is intentional, and that it all makes sense if you really study it. His purpose was to make you think. He wants people to try to figure out what happens (which, by the way, is impossible.)
See my problems is that I'm not so concerned about what happens in a movie as I am with what it all means in the end. Memento is a good example of this. The "what happens" is a mystery, but eventually is explained and is understandable and not really important in the end because what's really important is what it all means: the "why" it was all important.
I feel bad harshing on it that much because it was the filmmaker's first feature, and I've seen worse.
But the fucking thing won the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance, so my standards of judgement go up a bit.
WTF?
I think people, especially people in high places don't like to look dumb. I'm sure that there are a some of people that look at a Picasso and really appreciate the genius behind it. I'm also sure that the vast majority of people that "appreciate" Picasso are just trying not to look like uncultured dipshits.
I think the people who gave Primer the Grand Jury Prize at Sundance just didn't want to look like stupid dipshits so they pretended like they understood it, which is totally impossible. The stupid liars.
***
So anyways, I watched Syriana today with the buddies. I was so relieved when Rick turned to me 45 minutes into the movie and asked, "Are you as lost as I am?" The movie made me feel dumb. Especially since it's been getting such good reviews. Even Mike G with his enormous, enormous brain couldn't explain the movie to us. I think I like Stephen Gaghan's scripts better when Steven Soderbergh directs them.
This is what the movie is about, from what I remember:
George Clooney is fat and hairy and does dangerous, illicit work for the US government in the middle east. Something to do with weapons sales and...oh fuck it. I don't know. At some point he gets betrayed and hurries his ass back to the middle east to do something. Not quite sure what, but it seemed pretty important.
Matt Damon, thankfully has the most understandable story line. He goes to a party thrown by some mid-east royalty. His kid dies at the party, and because of that, Matt Damon starts working for the prince of the kingdom. He starts being a dick to his own family after that. Oh also, the prince of the kingdom has this brother who I swear is flaming gay, but they never really say it outright. Maybe he's just straight and utterly fabulous.
There's this black lawyer guy whose firm is brokering a merger between two huge oil companies in Texas. I don't know what this black lawyer's name is, but the government keeps pressuring him to be a snitch and he also knows Christopher Plummer who is very important and rich and powerful and has a very expensive home security system in his house. I think George Clooney breaks his expensive alarm system at one point, but they talk later, and Christopher Plummer never makes him pay for it. Man, if someone broke my very expensive alarm system, I'd sure make them pay for it.
Anyway, whenever this black lawyer guy goes home, there's this older, angry black dude always sitting on his front steps. This older black dude might be the black lawyer guy's father, but I'll never know, because I had pretty much given up on trying to understand the movie about 15 minutes into it.
There's also a couple of Persian kids that they follow, but they mostly just play soccer and eventually go blow something up. I knew something was going to blow up. Once I gave up trying to understand the movie, I just waited the next hour and 45 minutes for what I was sure would be a spectacular explosion. It wasn't that good tho.
Syriana sucks. I'd recommend watching King Kong instead. It comes out next week.
***
R.I.P. Richard Pryor.
***
Oh, and found a new roommate, BTW. Forgot to mention that. Thank god that got taken care of pretty quickly.
Posted at 02:54 PM Read More |
Wed - November 30, 2005
YOUR DICK IS TOO SMALL!!!
- This was the subject header of my favorite spam
email of the week. I love the urgency of it.
Coming in a close second was one with the subject heading, "Hey There", which, itself, wasn't so funny as much as the fact that it was from "Condoleeza Rice <harlie_Rosado@est.it>" Apparently our National Security Advisor is barely legal and has a webcam that she'd love for us to check out.
Anyhow, back to the subject of my tiny dick - I wholly prefer to be courted with, say, the tantalizing aspect of "better please <my> woman!!!", or the possiblity that "She won't believe here eyes" (yes it actually said "here"). "YOUR DICK IS TOO SMALL!!!" is simply an insult. It is no better than the spam I received sometime last year with the subject, "Satisfy your woman, you pindick". Sales are about service. Thank you, but I think I will not be buying any penile growth products from you.
***
"American Monsters 2" is over. I'd like to think that I'm done for the year, but every time I let my guard down, something comes up. It's making me paranoid.
***
I got a very passive aggressive letter from the Republican National Committee asking why I've abandoned them. I haven't been a Republican since college. It's like hearing from an ex-girlfriend for the first time in 10 years and the first thing she says is "You were supposed to call me. I was waiting." Psycho bitch.
***
Per my previous post, the left leg on my Abercrombie and Fitch jeans - the only jeans I have that had no holes in them - is slowly disintegrating. This is ridiculous.
***
...
Coming in a close second was one with the subject heading, "Hey There", which, itself, wasn't so funny as much as the fact that it was from "Condoleeza Rice <harlie_Rosado@est.it>" Apparently our National Security Advisor is barely legal and has a webcam that she'd love for us to check out.
Anyhow, back to the subject of my tiny dick - I wholly prefer to be courted with, say, the tantalizing aspect of "better please <my> woman!!!", or the possiblity that "She won't believe here eyes" (yes it actually said "here"). "YOUR DICK IS TOO SMALL!!!" is simply an insult. It is no better than the spam I received sometime last year with the subject, "Satisfy your woman, you pindick". Sales are about service. Thank you, but I think I will not be buying any penile growth products from you.
***
"American Monsters 2" is over. I'd like to think that I'm done for the year, but every time I let my guard down, something comes up. It's making me paranoid.
***
I got a very passive aggressive letter from the Republican National Committee asking why I've abandoned them. I haven't been a Republican since college. It's like hearing from an ex-girlfriend for the first time in 10 years and the first thing she says is "You were supposed to call me. I was waiting." Psycho bitch.
***
Per my previous post, the left leg on my Abercrombie and Fitch jeans - the only jeans I have that had no holes in them - is slowly disintegrating. This is ridiculous.
***
...
Posted at 08:22 PM Read More |
Sat - October 1, 2005
Wed - September 28, 2005
No H0t @si@n s1uts here so fuck off.
I added a webcounter to this blog, just because I
could. I've checked it a few times, and was not surprised to see that this site
isn't going to be crashing any webservers anytime soon. However, one cool
feature is a referrer listing which shows how people come to your site, namely
search engine queries.
Here are a few:
Dakota fanning smoke cigarettes (Yahoo) - Obviously someone who once read my post about Dakota Fanning, which contains a brilliant mini-play featuring Dakota Fanning and cigarettes.
Beeler's broth (Google) - I actually googled this myself just to see. I'm one of the few people that actually ever specifically mentions this on the web. I'm wondering if I totally mis-heard my director when she told me what it was called because I have yet, to date, been able to find anyone else who's ever heard of "Beeler's Brother"
kerri higuchi and john cho (Google) - This can only be Ashley, who Chezmiko swears is white because no Korean parents would ever name their daughter "Ashley", when you could name her Grace, Sunny, Jane, or Grace.
Brother (Yahoo) - either an accidental hit from a search query or someone who's just too lazy to actually bookmark this blog.
Now, here are some other search queries. I've altered them because I don't want search engines and webcrawlers attracting more freakos to my site:
pe0ple who want to see D@kot@ F@nning n@ked (Yahoo) - This person must have been sorely disappointed to find my site instead. Note also that this person did not just want to see D@kot@ F@nning n@ked, but apparently wanted to find a community of people that also want to see her in such a way.
n@ked 0lder br0ther fuck1ng y0unger br0ther (also: br0ther suck br0ther - Yahoo) - unfortunately, this blog is the 14th listed site when this search string is entered into Yahoo. I assure you all that I do not have a brother of my own, and have never written about brothers doing each other sexually, with or without clothes.
P1CTURE 0F BR0THER FUCK1NG Y0UNGER S1STER (Yahoo)- note that this is written in all caps. To me it adds a sense of urgency. Someone really wants to see this shit.
This is the kind of shit your webcounter will tell you. I'm sure that Spiffy has a few stories of his own.
Anyhow - freaks go away.
You will not find your satisfactions here.
I will be the first to admit that I have my own personal sexual predilections, but none of them involve siblings or children.
Here are a few:
Dakota fanning smoke cigarettes (Yahoo) - Obviously someone who once read my post about Dakota Fanning, which contains a brilliant mini-play featuring Dakota Fanning and cigarettes.
Beeler's broth (Google) - I actually googled this myself just to see. I'm one of the few people that actually ever specifically mentions this on the web. I'm wondering if I totally mis-heard my director when she told me what it was called because I have yet, to date, been able to find anyone else who's ever heard of "Beeler's Brother"
kerri higuchi and john cho (Google) - This can only be Ashley, who Chezmiko swears is white because no Korean parents would ever name their daughter "Ashley", when you could name her Grace, Sunny, Jane, or Grace.
Brother (Yahoo) - either an accidental hit from a search query or someone who's just too lazy to actually bookmark this blog.
Now, here are some other search queries. I've altered them because I don't want search engines and webcrawlers attracting more freakos to my site:
pe0ple who want to see D@kot@ F@nning n@ked (Yahoo) - This person must have been sorely disappointed to find my site instead. Note also that this person did not just want to see D@kot@ F@nning n@ked, but apparently wanted to find a community of people that also want to see her in such a way.
n@ked 0lder br0ther fuck1ng y0unger br0ther (also: br0ther suck br0ther - Yahoo) - unfortunately, this blog is the 14th listed site when this search string is entered into Yahoo. I assure you all that I do not have a brother of my own, and have never written about brothers doing each other sexually, with or without clothes.
P1CTURE 0F BR0THER FUCK1NG Y0UNGER S1STER (Yahoo)- note that this is written in all caps. To me it adds a sense of urgency. Someone really wants to see this shit.
This is the kind of shit your webcounter will tell you. I'm sure that Spiffy has a few stories of his own.
Anyhow - freaks go away.
You will not find your satisfactions here.
I will be the first to admit that I have my own personal sexual predilections, but none of them involve siblings or children.
Posted at 12:39 AM Read More |
Mon - September 26, 2005
I don't bother writing about the normal things in my life.
When I was in
Proof,
the character I played, "Hal" was a nice, charming, well-adjusted guy. The
character really rubbed off on me, as I found it easier during that time to
maintain a cheerful
disposition.
Filming The Achievers is an ongoing process. It's been fun, but the character I play, "Murphy" is a downer. When I was shooting for that full month, the stress got to me, but what really got to me was having to be in the skin of this droopy dog for 30 days straight. Even these days, with sporadic shooting, I find it difficult to get away from him.
Right now I've started rehearsals for Lodestone's new play, American Monsters 2. I've been cast as a necrophile in one story, and as an incestuous pedophile in another. I am very worried. Thank god I'm not all method and shit, but seriously. I'm worried.
***
On another note, I found this on the web recently. For those of you too lazy to click on the link, it's a supposedly real (unable to confirm) Australian commercial campaign against eating expired food products. The commercial is a video of some dude, who apparently eats a 2 -year-old can of spoiled pickles on a $5 bet, and ends with text stating that they guy dies 4 hours later. That's fine and all, but really, when I watched the video, the guy seemed to be eating the gherkins with such relish, that all I can think of is pickles lately. I've eaten two jars since Saturday. What the fuck is my problem? Maybe my body has a brine deficiency.
***
That being said. C'mon, I'm not that crazy. This blog exists so that I can share the more interesting aspects of my life with others. And in the absence of interesting material, I start digging up the disturbing shit. I gotta write something. It's been almost 3 weeks since I've updated this thing.
Filming The Achievers is an ongoing process. It's been fun, but the character I play, "Murphy" is a downer. When I was shooting for that full month, the stress got to me, but what really got to me was having to be in the skin of this droopy dog for 30 days straight. Even these days, with sporadic shooting, I find it difficult to get away from him.
Right now I've started rehearsals for Lodestone's new play, American Monsters 2. I've been cast as a necrophile in one story, and as an incestuous pedophile in another. I am very worried. Thank god I'm not all method and shit, but seriously. I'm worried.
***
On another note, I found this on the web recently. For those of you too lazy to click on the link, it's a supposedly real (unable to confirm) Australian commercial campaign against eating expired food products. The commercial is a video of some dude, who apparently eats a 2 -year-old can of spoiled pickles on a $5 bet, and ends with text stating that they guy dies 4 hours later. That's fine and all, but really, when I watched the video, the guy seemed to be eating the gherkins with such relish, that all I can think of is pickles lately. I've eaten two jars since Saturday. What the fuck is my problem? Maybe my body has a brine deficiency.
***
That being said. C'mon, I'm not that crazy. This blog exists so that I can share the more interesting aspects of my life with others. And in the absence of interesting material, I start digging up the disturbing shit. I gotta write something. It's been almost 3 weeks since I've updated this thing.
Posted at 10:12 AM Read More |
Thu - August 25, 2005
My day 08/24/05
Here's my
day:
10:00am - I wake. When work is stacked, i.e. I'm editing a video, or rebuilding an entire wall/desk enclosure, I'm there for however long it takes me to finish. This sometimes involves 12-16 hour work days. When work is lax, I go in at my leisure and spend most of the time browsing the internet. Lately, work has been lax, but I decide to try and make it to work by the leisurely hour of 11am. I am truly a spoiled fucker.
11:30am - still haven't left to work yet because since I've gotten up, I've received numerous phone calls regarding a job I booked on a TV show. I am stoked because it's my first TV gig. I am puzzled because there are a surprising amount of technicalities and legalities to settle for a part that requires 1 line of dialogue and, I'm assuming, less than 30 seconds of screen time.
12:15pm - I arrive at work, looking forward to a long, leisurely afternoon of reading poe-news.com and drinking coffee. However, I am surprised to see Spiffy walking towards me as I enter my building. Turns out that the big production company that Spiffy works for is throwing a company party at the W Hotel in Westwood. He has ditched the party instead, to have lunch with me and Mike. I am puzzled and dismayed as to why he would give up the opportunity to hit up an open bar at a hot Hollywood party so that he can pay to eat food with two male friends.
12:30pm - Mike is not actually here, as he is in New York overseeing the workshop of his new play. Spiffy must settle for just me. We go to Chili's. He gets a peppercorn burger. I get a mushroom swiss and a 24 OZ Hefweizen .
Drinking during the workday = fuck yeah.
1pm - lunch is well underway. I spend most of the time talking shit about people we know. I am just in that sort of mood today.
1:15-1:30pm - We finish lunch and Spiffy goes back to his party to undoubtedly snort high-quality coke off the rock-hard stomachs of supermodels and Hollywood starlets. I go back to work to kick it with some graduate students in Computer Engineering, all of whom are male. By the way, they're all serious dorks. I've never in my life met a genuinely cool student of Computer Engineering.
1:30-4:30pm - Some of the graduate students of Computer Engineering are playing Quake 3 on the student network. The ones that aren't playing Quake 3 are ogling pictures of semi-hot women that one of them took pictures of at a holiday party. I shit you not.
4:30pm - This is ridiculous. There's seriously nothing to do at work today, and the graduate students of Computer Engineering are fully nerding me out. Since Mike's in NY, I go to his place to check his mail and water his plants.
4:45pm - I am watering his plants. This, for some reason, is more difficult that I had originally imagined. Some of the plants are in awkward places. Others are so leafy that their leaves effectively deflect the water. I soon become frustrated. I clearly underwater certain plants and overwater others. In fact I really think I overwatered those certain plants. As I left, I could actually hear them calling for snorkels and life–preservers, but I ignored their hateful little cries and just hoped that they'd survive until Mike comes back.
5:15pm - I approach my new apartment (I am now fully moved in, thank fuggin gawd.) As I make a left turn into my driveway, I notice some fellow with a soda cup from Fatburger riding his bike on the sidewalk, just about to cross my driveway. We both hit our brakes to avoid the accident. I stop in the middle of the road. He, however, goes flying over his handlebars and fully face-plants. His Fatburger soda explodes onto the sidewalk.
Still in the middle of the street, I roll down my window and ask if he's alright. The guy shoots up onto his feet (I now notice that he is fairly scruffy and crazy-eyed) and yells, I shit you not, "A SYSTEM OF CHECKS AND BALANCES!!!"
I have no response to this. I start looking for my pepper spray.
In fact, he bellows a few other things, which I don't really catch as I'm still processing his non-sequitur about checks and balances and realizing that I don't actually own any pepper spray. At some point he screams something that sounds like, "Freedom of [unintelligible]". I would imagine that the garbled word would have been "speech" but I don't think it sounded anything like that.
He finishes his diatribe, nods at me authoritatively, gets back on his bike, and rides off. He does not retrieve his Fatburger cup.
6:00pm - I have dinner with my friend Jane, visiting from Florida. Jane is an actress who used to be a TV news reporter. Before she was a news reporter, Jane was a model. Before she was a model, she was a beauty queen. Jane is also one of the most hard-core Christians I've ever met. I truly consider Jane one of my closest friends, and I am truly puzzled by the fact that I have no desire to sleep with her (not that it would ever happen). Maybe that's why we're such good friends. But maybe it's because she's such a hard core Christian, and that, quite frankly, scares me a little.
8:15pm - I get a call from an old friend, Clark, whom I haven't talked to in about a year. Clark is one of the most uncomfortable people I know. He is also one of the most unfortunate. You know those people that just can't seem to get a break? Well, Clark is one of those people.
The last I had heard from him he was in debt. His sister had had some sort of unexpected seizure and by the time they had found her, the oxygen deprivation had caused her permanent brain damage. Because of this she is living in a vegetative state. The responsibility of her care has fallen upon Clark because his father was, around the same time, diagnosed with terminal cancer. By the time they discovered it, the doctors figured that he had about a month to live.
As I am talking to Clark, I find that, his father did indeed pass away about a month after his diagnosis. Clark is even more into debt due to medicare costs for his father and sister.
But talking to him, Clark sounds the happiest he's ever sounded. He has attended a Landmark seminar, which has changed his life. Turns out that he also wants to invite me to a Tuesday night meeting. I turn him down before he even gets a chance to explain what it is. I'm happy Clark is so happy, but I suddenly get a strong gut feeling of the intense religious retreat my parents had sent me on five years ago.
Still he does sound the happiest I have ever heard him. I mean, he's not snorting coke of the rock hard stomachs of supermodels, or drinking large amounts of beer in the middle of the day, but he sounds like he's doing alright, you know?
2:30am - Finish writing blog entry, and finally get to sleep. Wonder how Mike is doing. Wonder how Clark is doing. Wonder what supermodel Spiffy is passed out with right now. And just in case there really is a God, I say a small prayer asking forgiveness for joking about wanting to sleep with one of his biggest fans.
10:00am - I wake. When work is stacked, i.e. I'm editing a video, or rebuilding an entire wall/desk enclosure, I'm there for however long it takes me to finish. This sometimes involves 12-16 hour work days. When work is lax, I go in at my leisure and spend most of the time browsing the internet. Lately, work has been lax, but I decide to try and make it to work by the leisurely hour of 11am. I am truly a spoiled fucker.
11:30am - still haven't left to work yet because since I've gotten up, I've received numerous phone calls regarding a job I booked on a TV show. I am stoked because it's my first TV gig. I am puzzled because there are a surprising amount of technicalities and legalities to settle for a part that requires 1 line of dialogue and, I'm assuming, less than 30 seconds of screen time.
12:15pm - I arrive at work, looking forward to a long, leisurely afternoon of reading poe-news.com and drinking coffee. However, I am surprised to see Spiffy walking towards me as I enter my building. Turns out that the big production company that Spiffy works for is throwing a company party at the W Hotel in Westwood. He has ditched the party instead, to have lunch with me and Mike. I am puzzled and dismayed as to why he would give up the opportunity to hit up an open bar at a hot Hollywood party so that he can pay to eat food with two male friends.
12:30pm - Mike is not actually here, as he is in New York overseeing the workshop of his new play. Spiffy must settle for just me. We go to Chili's. He gets a peppercorn burger. I get a mushroom swiss and a 24 OZ Hefweizen .
Drinking during the workday = fuck yeah.
1pm - lunch is well underway. I spend most of the time talking shit about people we know. I am just in that sort of mood today.
1:15-1:30pm - We finish lunch and Spiffy goes back to his party to undoubtedly snort high-quality coke off the rock-hard stomachs of supermodels and Hollywood starlets. I go back to work to kick it with some graduate students in Computer Engineering, all of whom are male. By the way, they're all serious dorks. I've never in my life met a genuinely cool student of Computer Engineering.
1:30-4:30pm - Some of the graduate students of Computer Engineering are playing Quake 3 on the student network. The ones that aren't playing Quake 3 are ogling pictures of semi-hot women that one of them took pictures of at a holiday party. I shit you not.
4:30pm - This is ridiculous. There's seriously nothing to do at work today, and the graduate students of Computer Engineering are fully nerding me out. Since Mike's in NY, I go to his place to check his mail and water his plants.
4:45pm - I am watering his plants. This, for some reason, is more difficult that I had originally imagined. Some of the plants are in awkward places. Others are so leafy that their leaves effectively deflect the water. I soon become frustrated. I clearly underwater certain plants and overwater others. In fact I really think I overwatered those certain plants. As I left, I could actually hear them calling for snorkels and life–preservers, but I ignored their hateful little cries and just hoped that they'd survive until Mike comes back.
5:15pm - I approach my new apartment (I am now fully moved in, thank fuggin gawd.) As I make a left turn into my driveway, I notice some fellow with a soda cup from Fatburger riding his bike on the sidewalk, just about to cross my driveway. We both hit our brakes to avoid the accident. I stop in the middle of the road. He, however, goes flying over his handlebars and fully face-plants. His Fatburger soda explodes onto the sidewalk.
Still in the middle of the street, I roll down my window and ask if he's alright. The guy shoots up onto his feet (I now notice that he is fairly scruffy and crazy-eyed) and yells, I shit you not, "A SYSTEM OF CHECKS AND BALANCES!!!"
I have no response to this. I start looking for my pepper spray.
In fact, he bellows a few other things, which I don't really catch as I'm still processing his non-sequitur about checks and balances and realizing that I don't actually own any pepper spray. At some point he screams something that sounds like, "Freedom of [unintelligible]". I would imagine that the garbled word would have been "speech" but I don't think it sounded anything like that.
He finishes his diatribe, nods at me authoritatively, gets back on his bike, and rides off. He does not retrieve his Fatburger cup.
6:00pm - I have dinner with my friend Jane, visiting from Florida. Jane is an actress who used to be a TV news reporter. Before she was a news reporter, Jane was a model. Before she was a model, she was a beauty queen. Jane is also one of the most hard-core Christians I've ever met. I truly consider Jane one of my closest friends, and I am truly puzzled by the fact that I have no desire to sleep with her (not that it would ever happen). Maybe that's why we're such good friends. But maybe it's because she's such a hard core Christian, and that, quite frankly, scares me a little.
8:15pm - I get a call from an old friend, Clark, whom I haven't talked to in about a year. Clark is one of the most uncomfortable people I know. He is also one of the most unfortunate. You know those people that just can't seem to get a break? Well, Clark is one of those people.
The last I had heard from him he was in debt. His sister had had some sort of unexpected seizure and by the time they had found her, the oxygen deprivation had caused her permanent brain damage. Because of this she is living in a vegetative state. The responsibility of her care has fallen upon Clark because his father was, around the same time, diagnosed with terminal cancer. By the time they discovered it, the doctors figured that he had about a month to live.
As I am talking to Clark, I find that, his father did indeed pass away about a month after his diagnosis. Clark is even more into debt due to medicare costs for his father and sister.
But talking to him, Clark sounds the happiest he's ever sounded. He has attended a Landmark seminar, which has changed his life. Turns out that he also wants to invite me to a Tuesday night meeting. I turn him down before he even gets a chance to explain what it is. I'm happy Clark is so happy, but I suddenly get a strong gut feeling of the intense religious retreat my parents had sent me on five years ago.
Still he does sound the happiest I have ever heard him. I mean, he's not snorting coke of the rock hard stomachs of supermodels, or drinking large amounts of beer in the middle of the day, but he sounds like he's doing alright, you know?
2:30am - Finish writing blog entry, and finally get to sleep. Wonder how Mike is doing. Wonder how Clark is doing. Wonder what supermodel Spiffy is passed out with right now. And just in case there really is a God, I say a small prayer asking forgiveness for joking about wanting to sleep with one of his biggest fans.
Posted at 02:17 AM Read More |
Tue - August 16, 2005
Robocat
In the future, when man and robot battle for
control of the earth, a new terror will
arise.
Posted at 07:13 AM Read More |
Wed - August 10, 2005
So in the meantime...
I've been packing all week for the big move. I
hate moving - I've said this before, but the new place and new roommate appear
very promising, and it will all be over and done with very soon. There will be
no Propergander show this
Fall, as 8 Samurai has been cancelled. I haven't smoked in over a week and
hadn't really thought about it until today (now if I could only cut down on my
drinking...)
I've been going to Tai Chi classes (of all things) non-stop for the past month.
It's all very interesting. I could write quite a bit about all of
it.
Instead I will write about this:
This past weekend, I was changing the oil in my bike behind my apartment next to the trash cans. I hear this buzzing coming from a crack in one of the trash cans so I push it. This widens the crack just enough for a fly to crawl out of it and immediately get stuck. Seriously a one in a hundred chance type of occurrence. There is a line of ants coming out of this crack in the trash can and eventually they discover and start attacking the trapped fly. It was so nature-documentary fascinating. Nostalgic, even, in a way. This is the type of stuff that kept me entertained growing up in desert in Bakersfield. I watched and watched animal behavior as ants gradually communicated attack patterns to each other and as the fly futilely tried to get away.
I finished changing the oil in my bike and went inside to clean up. Later I remembered the fly and went back out to check on it. By this point it was covered by an impossibly thick layer of swarming ants and was buzzing weakly and desperately as it died a slow, horrible death.
I went back inside, crawled into bed and screamed into my pillow for about half and hour. Of all things, it sure didn't make me feel nostalgic anymore. The rest of my weekend was pretty cool otherwise.
Instead I will write about this:
This past weekend, I was changing the oil in my bike behind my apartment next to the trash cans. I hear this buzzing coming from a crack in one of the trash cans so I push it. This widens the crack just enough for a fly to crawl out of it and immediately get stuck. Seriously a one in a hundred chance type of occurrence. There is a line of ants coming out of this crack in the trash can and eventually they discover and start attacking the trapped fly. It was so nature-documentary fascinating. Nostalgic, even, in a way. This is the type of stuff that kept me entertained growing up in desert in Bakersfield. I watched and watched animal behavior as ants gradually communicated attack patterns to each other and as the fly futilely tried to get away.
I finished changing the oil in my bike and went inside to clean up. Later I remembered the fly and went back out to check on it. By this point it was covered by an impossibly thick layer of swarming ants and was buzzing weakly and desperately as it died a slow, horrible death.
I went back inside, crawled into bed and screamed into my pillow for about half and hour. Of all things, it sure didn't make me feel nostalgic anymore. The rest of my weekend was pretty cool otherwise.
Posted at 03:02 AM Read More |
Tue - August 9, 2005
Wed - August 3, 2005
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Published On: Feb 24, 2006 01:40 AM
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Published On: Feb 24, 2006 01:40 AM