XKCD

I love this comic. It makes me smile. It also finalizes my placement into the geek box because I think science and computer jokes are funny sometimes too.

Anyway aside from being just plain fantastic the comic also sometimes hits on things I'm thinking about a lot or even feeling (which is the sign of a great....anything)

Things like:
I am not an adult.

Hollywood is not to far off.

feeling this way about someone, thats a good feeling.

and the last one, which pretty much states how I feel about everything. 

Amen. 

So This is What That Feels Like

Im really enjoying the feeling of being happy consecutive days in a row.

Random dialogue

Jerry: Hey duder. Come here.
Tom: What's going on Jer?
Jerry: Tell me do you see that stain on the driveway?
Tom: What stain, Jer?
Jerry: That stain right there. Does that look like blood to you?
Tom: Gee, I dunno. Let me take a look....
*GUNSHOT*
Jerry: Yep. Thought it was blood. Thanks Tom.
Tom: ....

Forced Happiness

Ever feel like people are trying to put one of these on you?

happiness hat from Lauren McCarthy on Vimeo.

Halloween is Coming: So Let's Get Scared!

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays. I love it. And since it is quickly approaching I thought I would share some scary thing.

First up is a TV Episode called "THE CLOWN" from an old show called One Step Beyond.

A man pins a murder on a mute clown and thinks he's gotten away with it. But then every time he looks into a reflective surface he sees the clown sneaking up behind him.

It's about 30 minutes and it's scary as all hell. Give it a watch when you have the time and I promise you won't be disappointed.

First part is below.
Comment and let me know what you think? Should I post more of this kind of stuff?

See You In My Nightmares

Meaningless Thing That Pisses me Off today

OSLO, Norway (AP) -- American rap artist and actor Will Smith and his wife, the actress Jada Pinkett Smith, will co-host this year's Nobel Peace Prize Concert in Oslo, organizers said Wednesday.

an excerpt from the AP today.


How the hell is the most sought after, successful, box-office smashing actor of ALL TIME, still billed because of his music career first. Is it perhaps because he's black?


*Not really pissed off about this*
I think i just needed to post something.

Taming of the Bull: A Poem

Blinding rage
Seeing red
dizzy thoughts and confused logic
punching walls, ignoring calls
throwing phones and books
not a body to touch or speak or hold
no placement for my foot to hold
blinding rage
seeing red
blood and bullets
wish for dead
out of my body looking in
trying hard to find a friend
going crazy
not going, gone
lost to reason's calming song
suddenly a face, a voice
so familiar
red is fading
becoming clearer
no longer blind
and so I see
the one who's calling out to me
calms me down
makes me sane
So I can try
to live again

Corporate Wisdom

"It's better if you act as if everything is important"

Just So You Know

As a man, being referred to as "small" and being told that "I look like haven't changed since high school" is not a compliment.

Corporate Wisdom

Everyday in the office people throw out little lines of advice to me the struggling part-timer to help me climb the ladder of success. I will post my favorites as they come.

"Try to shy away from giving the people facts, if they have facts they can be used against us."

Journal of a Watcher

I wake up. My eyes are fogged and blurry making it hard to search around the room for my glasses. Everything shifts and moves nothing retains any specific shape.

“Where am I?”

I’m sitting up, drool dripping down my lips connected to my local college sweatshirt. I fell asleep at my desk again. Classy.

My hands dance along my desk and knock over the empty bottle of Jack.

Finally I feel something familiar; small, thin framed. I slide my glasses onto my face and everything comes back into focus. The nameless nothings all become real. My floor covered in old clothes, sneakers and jerseys. My desk covered in pills, half-full glasses, plates with half eaten food and my monitors. I grab my phone and check the time.

“11:30 Christ.”

Been asleep for 12 hours. Some watcher I turned out to be. The silver hue of my monitors lights the room. I push my bare feet hard on the ground and my wheeled chair takes off as I make my runs.

30 monitors. 1 for each person. 30 people whose lives are in my hands chosen at random by the men who chose things and every six months these 30 stop being under my watchful eye and another random set is sent into my home.

Mr. Yomachi who works out naked in his living room.

Mrs. Kensington is still reading that Steven King Book.

Charlie Sanders always checks his phone when his wife leaves the room.

None of these people are dangerous; none of them terrorists, none of these people want to blow up Central Holdings. But somewhere out there, is someone who wants to. And they don’t because they’re afraid I’m watching them right now. All day, everyday.

Senior Castanada is about to drink from the gallon of milk that his wife told him to throw out two weeks ago.

Michelle is combing her hair, 22 times, 23 times, 24 times.

Robert reads to his son.

This is my life. Watching you live yours. This is must be how St. Peter feels.

While I watch Frank Gorbsy try to find something good on TV I reach down and pick up the 3 days old Chinese Food box off my floor and start digging in. This is when I start getting sad. Watching someone watch, it’s like setting two mirrors up to face each other and watching the reflections go on for infinity. Then I think about the poor schmuck who has to watch me. The thought sends chills down my back for a second. I remind myself I make good money for this job. My large government paycheck keeps the chills at bay, I could live in a nice condo in the zero sector if it wasn’t for the crushing guilt.

I throw the Chinese food towards at the bin. It bounces off the edge and lands on the floor sending shrimp fried rice all over my floor, the bugs will be here soon. I roll myself back to my desk.

“Save the best for last”

Truth is I know I’m not a good watcher. Truth is these other people get no more than 30 seconds each. The truth is that for the last two years I’ve been watching only one person. You.

Your life plays out on the double monitor on my desk. I know every inch of your apartment from your large couch to your collection of Asian dolls.

If the big men upstairs found out I was using my technical knowledge to keep you around they’d have me sent to containment faster than you can unwrap a Now&Later.

I know it’s wrong to call it love but…no other word really comes into my head at the moment. I hit the ENTER button on my keyboard to scroll through the cameras trying to find you in your apartment. You might be out right now walking your dog. But you’ll be back soon. You’ll go into the fridge and grab a coke and then sit and watch a movie.

I know it’s wrong to call it meant to be but what else could it be. I know what you like, I know every aspect of your body, your hair, your legs, your pale skin, the bruises on your back from when you were hit by that car 3 weeks ago. I know how your body moves when you dance, I know what TV shows you like, I know what makes you laugh and how you sound when you cry. I know when you’re having a real orgasm and when you’re faking it.

I know I can’t call it dating but what else could it be.

I watch as your door opens and you and Atticus; your tiny pug come back inside. Quickly you change into your bikini top and you lie across your couch and flip through the channels. Before I know it my fingers are lightly brushing your hair. If it wasn’t for this damn screen we’d both be in heaven right now. If it wasn’t for this distance you’d be in my arms right now.

“If only you knew.”

You yawn and get up to go to bed. Your lights turn off and my cameras turn to Night Vision. I grab my blanket and pull it over me and tuck myself in. You do the same.

You say good night to Atticus who snuggles up by your feet.

“Good-Night Jenny” I say.

I close my eyes and start to drift into my dream. The dream where one day I’ll whisper I love you and you’ll whisper it back. The dream where you know that I exist.

To Be Continued?

An Apology

So I just spent the last hour re-reading this blog and I feel like I owe the readers an apology. First off for any poor sap who actually reads this thing expecting to find consistantly updated short stories I have done you a grave disservice. But in general I just read the first story I posted to start this blog with...a real downer. Kinda like saying hi to someone by punching them in the balls. My bad. Wasn't really thinking. Thanks for sticking with me.

Christopher Edwards

One Thing You Didn't Know About Me

Here's a new segment I'm working on called: 1 thing you didn't know about me. I'll post this as I feel like it.


One thing you didn't know about me : I both love and hate the process of eating. I love it because it's delicious, hate it because I know that eventually I'll have to do it again and I hate repetition.

The Doorman

In a time much different than ours, in a world unlike our own there was a very small village. In this very small village there was a very small road that ran down the center of town, called Barnabey St. And down the alleyway on Barnabey, between the Hopflop shop and the Jig vendors, there was a door. A single bright yellow door with a brass ring for a handle. This door in this alley was of little interest to anyone in the town, that is until Merryweight Grizlebaum, the town's local fool, sat himself down on a stool directly in front of the door.
At first no one in the town minded, figuring it better to let a fool keep to himself and his foolish ways. But soon days had past, then weeks, and months, and Merryweight never moved from in front of that yellow door. Finally concerned but to scared to venture down the alley, the townspeople yelled "Mr. Grizlebaum have you died?" "No, I haven't." Yelled back the fool. Then fearing the worst of the fool the townspeople yelled, "You have been outside that door for months now Mr. Grizlebaum, Are you perhaps holding someone for ransom?"
Grizlebaum laughed, " I know I am foolish. But not foolish enough to hold someone for ransom in a village this small." "Well then what are you doing!?" the townspeople shouted and before they were finished Merryweight replied with "I'm watching the door."
"He thinks he's a doorman now?" the townspeople shouted, "Well doorman, what is behind your door that's so special that you must watch after it?" "That.." said the doorman now sitting straight up on his stool, eyes alert. "is none of your concern." The townspeople laughed in unison. "Silly doorman" they spat as they returned to their homes. But years passed and curiosity grew as the doorman never left his post at the yellow door. People came from all around the strange world to view from the safety of Barnabey street, the mysterious doorman. Over time the tiny village grew and grew until it was a large city with many buildings and people. And Barnabey street stretched for miles now. But there was still that alley between the Hopflop MegaShop and the Jenco JigVendor Inc. And there was still that door. And the doorman rarely moved in those years. Though sometimes, tourists would spot him away from his stool, curled up at the base of the door his ear cupped to the peeling wood. Or sometimes standing flat with his back against the door. And he aged and his hair got white and skin became loose and hung on his bones like hand me down clothes. It was clear to everyone that the doorman could die any day. And some even tried to use his weakness to try and storm the door, he'd strike them, they'd fall. Soon they just watched and waited. They waited for sixty years, and though he spent most of those days silent, two hours before his last breath a child ran past the guard lines and made it down the alley to the man on the stool. "Why did you sit here doorman?" whispered the child. "Why did you sit here and stay here forever? Why didn't you go to the everyplace and venture to the anywhere that I hear the travelers talk about? The doorman shifted on his stool, his left hand on the yellow door for support. "You don't know this little one, but I've been everyplace and anywhere. In fact, it was through those adventures through everywhere that lead me to here. I'm here because, behind this door is the only thing I've ever known that's meant anything to me, and it took me a long time to find it so I don't mind looking over it for awhile." And with that the child's mother called him back. And she was so overcome with conflicting emotions that she beat and berated the child in front of the crowd, embittering him so that he would never tell a soul what the doorman had shared with him. At his last moments the doorman stood and pressed his face against the warped wooden door, straining to press his face through the wood, in one last effort to merge with it, and for the first time even dared a knock. And then he sat back in his stool and stared at the door with the biggest smile and the widest eyes. As if death had granted him the ability to see through the door and witness his treasure one last time. There was a moment of silence as the people registered the doorman's stillness. But it wasn't long before they were linking arms and throwing their shoulders into the yellow door, forcing it open. When the door fell and shattered into splinters, the peoples head's craned to get the best view. A tiny bathroom, with black and white tiles, a ventilation fan and a single light hung innocently from the ceiling. But the square window above the toilet, the one big enough to fit any average, dog, or cat, or person. That window was wide open and lead to an alley that went on for as many miles as Barnabey street. The people stood, ashamed and sad, their mouths hung open in disbelief. But the doorman smiled his biggest smile and his eyes were wide with joy sitting on his stool, facing the open yellow door.

One of the Good Ones: The Informant!

Steven Soderberg, Matt Damon, and almost every funny "that guy" bring a really interesting story to a pretty uninteresting September.


I like this movie. I didn't know much about it besides having my curiosity peaked by the bright orange billboard ads that I see for it when I'm driving home. I figured I was signing up for a Soderberg stylized corporate espionage film--and I was but I left feeling I had been given much more. A well presented character piece centered around Damen packing on some more poundage to pull off the Mid-West look. Like all great characters he only gets more interesting as the movie continues and the corporate plot-line is handled so well that it never interferes with learning more about the curious lead.

Informant does a good job of raising some interesting questions: Can you believe in integrity and be dishonest at the same time? What is the ultimate burden of a split life? Can Scott Backula actually act?

I'd say it's certainly one of the good ones. Maybe not one you need to see right now but the after theater conversation on this movie could be pretty enlightening.

3 Things Driving Me Crazy Right Now

1. Fake Anger Over Kanye West
The reason this bothers me is two fold. The first reason is that it no one was actually watching the VMA's when this event happened, because no one watches MTV unless your a 13 year old girl. We all found out the same way signing online and reading about it on Yahoo news or CNN.com or a real news source like Twitter. The second reason is that fake anger really pulls on my nut hairs. If I believed people actually cared about this stuff, it wouldn't bother me. But the minute Kanye comes out with his next album everyone and their momma is going to be talking about how great it is and this will all be forgotten. This argument also holds for Chris Brown and R. Kelly .
*editors note* This is also a retarded thing to get mad over since the whole thing was obviously staged. *editors note* This is even more retarded since no one cares anymore.

2. Filmmakers are Douchey High School Students
In the past couple of weeks a few filmmakers or high ups in the industry have decided to make public statements on LA's Nikki Finke Deadline Hollywood Blog. For those of you who don't know Nikki Finke is LA's own April O'Neil. She makes Perez Hilton look like 'black-eye-witness-guy' on network news. The first string was the infamous I won't read your fucking script by Josh Olsen (I'll hold for the communal "who?") He wrote History of Violence and really doesn't want to read your script. Then no more than a few days later three, Transformers 2 crew members publicly released a letter on Nikki Finke basically calling Megan Fox white trash(hurtful but true), in response to her calling Michael Bay Hitler(ditto) in an interview. What bother's me besides the fact that the number 1 industry news blog got turned into a personal trash talk forum. But when I found out that Michael Bay wrote the letter himself. I want to know why the director of one of the biggest films of the summer is putting up trash posts like the snooty bitch in 9th grade. I'm not really upset about turning a legitimate news source into a high school year book. What does upset me is that while Josh Olsen was telling me he wasn't going to read my script, or while Michael Bay was pretending to have a Vagina. They all could have been doing what they love to claim to do...Make Movies.
Good Movies.

3. Beatles are Cool Again!?
The Beatles Never Stopped Being Cool.
I don't care how cool Rock Band the Beatles is. A Re-Beatles invasion is not okay. I'm great with introducing kids to the music of the Beatles, even better with giving kids and parents a place to relate and play together. I am not okay with this grand jumping on the band-wagon and loving the band because of a video game. People who will have no understanding of who the Beatles actually were but instead will equate them with Rock Bands single note views of the band. We all knew the Beatles sold out once and we were cool with it because they're the fucking Beatles. but two times is pushing it.

He Said, She Said

She said "what are you thinking?" While they sat bathing in the glow of the TV.
He said, "nothing, watching the show. What are you thinking?" He didn't care but he didn't mind asking since he knew the answer was:"Nothing"
She said. "I'm just wondering what you're thinking." With that she was quiet and the sound of the TV took over.
After a time she said, "Do you think it's weird that we don't talk anymore?" She kept her eyes low to the ground.
He said "What do you mean?" and kept his eyes on the TV.
She said "There was a time when we could talk for hours about anything. There was a time when you cared about things going on in the world, and you made me laugh." "Remember how much we used to laugh?"
She said. "Why don't we do that anymore. Why do you think we don't talk anymore?"
She waited obediantly for his answer, not caring how long she would have to wait because it was the only question that really concerned her. She watched him inhale the air of the room through his nose while he thought. And when he finally spoke he didn't even turn his head to take in her gaze.
He said"We're talking right now aren't we?"
She said "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Okay....Time Out

Below I have attached a post from a husband having trouble with his wife.
My wife & I have been married 12 years and we were having a lot of marital trouble in the bedroom. Sex became somewhat boring no matter what we tried and we've tried EVERYTHING. Counseling, candles, massages, resorts & getaways, little notes to "hook up with me" in her purse (lol), etc....
Now, sex when we met was great, but only due to the fact it was new and all that and over the years we've developed some fire that's kept it alive. We are both VERY attracted to each other so it's actually not a matter of anything other than sex became more of a routine even with the new stuff we added. Then we tried smoking 420 one night and pretty much had the most incredible sex we both agreed we ever had. After that, it was almost like every night we wanted to literally run home to each other so we could have hours and hours of sex because it was so mind-blowing. This was many months ago and I can tell you that we have since stopped smoking 420 we are both somewhat sad because we have not been able to achieve the orgasm or length of time spent having sex. It's back to square one again. The reason we quit was because we began to feel guilty about our relationship with God and how it's considered wrong to smoke pot. We don't know if we could call ourselves Christian AND smoke pot even though it completely enhanced our marriage and sex life in the evening and made us both feel closer to each other than ever before. This sucks because we love each other a lot but it was like having "super sex" to "regular ol' sex" made us not even be interested in it anymore. It's very "ho-hum" now. What to do?

Okay so that's the long and short of it. Loving couple have finally caved to the demands of time commitments and good old fashioned, 'been-together-a-long-ass-time syndrome.' They've made every christian attempt at spicing up their relationship and nothing and then they find their answer in some bud. And boy howdy. But because their religion see's it as a sin they stop and now their fucked, but not in the good way.

The comments following this post all assign the same remedy and I was quiet surprised when I read them. Post after post helpful christians advise this poor man that the answer to his problem is quite simple...he should have sex less. One man says they should take two weeks and pray together during the time they would be lovemaking. A rabbi advises that they have sex only once a week so it seems all the more special. And it goes on and on...for PAGES. People all saying that sex isn't the relationship (which it isn't) and that it should be enough to just be with his wife ( which it should). But not one. NOT A SINGLE one points out what to me seems like the most obvious answer.

Why don't they just keep smoking?

Just really pisses me off is all.

Craigslist Ads You'll Never Read #4

Looking to Bust You - M4F- (Beverly Hills)

I'm a cop.

Birthday Blog Post

So as of the 19th of August I became 23 years old. As per my calculations that means I have about 10 years left. But while I'm here and since I've been alive for more than two decades now (which is horrifying) I feel like I should reflect back on some things I'm proud of and things I'm not to proud of.


Things I'm Proud of
1. Traveling across the pond before the age of 15.
2. Writing/Directing/Producing 2 shows for pH.
3. Being cast in 3 different pH shows.
4. Being cast and making company in pH
5. Winning employee of the year at Seadog
6. Starting droppin' $cience
7. Coaching college and High school kids.
8. Written 6 Feature Scripts and 2 books by the age of 20.
9. Coming in second to Micah at the birthday bash
10. My Script getting picked for the practicum
11. Making my teacher cry with my movie pitch.
12. Being a snowball leader.
13. Taking boxing lessons.
14. Playing the Sax.
15. Actually having the balls to leave all of that and drive to LA

Things I'm Not So Proud Of
1. Ally Reinke
2. That it took me till I was 22 to hear Animals or Sgt. Pepper.
3. The fact that I don't have a favorite band by this age.
4. First time doing Improv ever. In cafeteria of my middle school, got spooked by my stage partners initiation and spilled meatsauce all over myself. Was told to sit down by teacher.
5. Throwing up in public five separate times.
6. Michael Kerns
7. Making out with Leslie an hour after Tobers broke up with me.
8. The Birdman Situation.
9. The Sally Situation.
10. The Noah Situation.
11. The Ann Situation.
12. The Spike Situation.
13. Not having the balls to take up Piano as a kid.
14. That despite the kind words from my friends, the love of my girlfriend, and the credentials of my past....I still don't feel like I've done anything worth while and I still couldn't answer the question: Who is Chris Edwards? Without stumbling for words.
15. That I've never known the pleasure of a sudden kiss and that I prolly never will.

Happy Birthday!!!!

Classified Ads You'll Never Read #3

WE JUST NEED A MAN - ww4m - (*******)

Me and my best friend just got home from the bar. IT'S OUR BIRTHDAY!!! We've been besties since we were 3 years old and we both just turned 21! We had a great time but we don't have boyfriends so we spent all day being each others. And now we're all hot n' bothered :p

We've never done anything like this before but we're really horny and just need a guy to help guide us and show us what to do. We have roommates, so we'll have to come to you. This IS FOR REAL. No constant emails back and forth. Send yo digits in the first email!
d/d free of course!
pic4pic

First cum/first served
We're waiting ;)

Classified Ads You'll Never Read #2

Over and Done With (45) - m4f - (Addison)

"This has never happened to me before."Heard this before?

We'll I've said it before. Everytime actually. Done with lying and the shame. love 2 fuck! just not very good. Usually can last about two minutes, five if she's on top. Do have good recovery and love 2 eat the kitty!
D/D free, you be too.
Don't bother emailing to make fun of me. I've heard it all.

Classified Ads You'll Never Read

Misery Loves Company - m4f- (Long Beach)

Puny goth seeking partner. I look alright, tall, average build, Was a natural blonde but I dye. But it's not my outsides you should be concerned about. Inside I'm emotionally cold and I'm looking for someone to share that with. Most of my time is spent in self-wallowing pity, mostly because I don't have a girlfriend. I'd like to have a girlfriend but don't want to find anything else to do. I'm really into being sad right now, so if your prone to being jolly or joyful GO SOME PLACE ELSE!!!
But if your looking for a place where you can be in a relationship that will offer no support whatsoever besides the fact that we'll be able to tell people we're seeing someone and the occasional hate fuck then I'm your guy.
d/d prefered.
Pic4Pic.
Posers don't bother..I can spot a faker a mile away.

I am An Island Part 2

Day 2
I wake up exactly as I knew I would except in addition I also feel like someone has punched me straight in the gut. A Hot shower, turned cold shower, turned Sauna kind of wakes me up. I tell myself that today I am going to be productive. Then after an hour I ask myself....How?
Before I know it I'm throwing on my running shoes and gym shorts and out the door. A good run will make me feel good. I want to take it easy so I don't set the bar high on this first run, but I already know that I'll be doing more of it. So I run around a LA block, which is the equvilant of a maybe an 800 meter dash. By the time I'm standing outside of my house. I'm exhausted. Too many cigarettes. I rememeber that time that Joe Bill had his hand on my chest as i tried to sing.
"You smoke?"
"No"
"Don't ever start."

I guess I showed him. Once inside I do a little stretch down and start eating. 3 waffles, a banana, and one of those power bars I stole. Feeling good. It takes me an hour to write the post I posted yesterday. Then my internet gives out and I lose everything. So I have to write it again. I don't. Instead I pop in Raising Arizona again and start scraping the bowl for Res. I also get together all of my stems, grind them up into a fine powder. And smoke that. Not my finest hour. But needed to be done. Once I have enough res to consist a good time, i try to smoke it and it goes right through the hole and disappears. I try shaking it out of the mouth hole. Then try tapping it out with a lighter.
tap.
tap. tap.
tap. tap. shake.
tap. tap. shake. TAP.
tap. tap. SHAKE. TAP. TAP. "COME ON DAMNIT". TAP.
CRACK

The bowl explodes open and becomes immediately unuseable. FUCK.
I get up and write the post again. And by that time it's already the afternoon. I make myself a quick lunch and then decide to go on a walk.
I take my ipod with me and 6 dollars in quarters. Before I do my walk I stop off by the 711 and buy a pack of Camel crushes in quarters. It comes to 5.76. I give the arab guy behind the counter my change which turns out to be only five dollars in quarters. Thank god for that emergency dollar in my pocket.
When I leave, I check my pants for a lighter and find the other four quarters. This only upsets me because i could have given him those 3 quarters, and a take a penny. Kept my 1.25 and bought a jug of water as well. But live and learn.
Besides from seeing a pretty asian girl with a bag that read "I heart me". The walk was just a walk. I spent it listening to CSNY which is GREAT walking music.
No the walk didn't get interesting until I hit sunset and was given a free admission to the psychiatry an industry in death musuem. Now, usually i wouldn't have gone in there. But I had just finished listening to This American Life podcast the other day. One of the stories was about a man who had been in Bedlhem Asylum for 12 years. Bedlhem is where London sends all of it's serial killers and multiple rapists and pedies. This guy who they called "tony' had been in the asylum for 12 years, his offense was simple assault. But he wanted to avoid prison time, so he faked being crazy. And now he can't get out. Fucking terrifying stuff.
Anyway, needless to say the idea that shrinks were actually pure evil had been rolling around in my head and so I saw this as nothing more than a furthering of my research.
It should also be noted that this musuem and the organization that funds the museum are all branches of the Church of Scientology. So everything I've learned needed to be viewed through a skeptical lens.
Needless to say, The Church of Scientology believes that psychiatrists are nothing more than an evil group of people dedicated to enslaving the world to believe they are defective soley so they can make millions off of our pain. Unfortunately, they may be right.

A few undesputable facts that I learned at the Musuem.
- Benjermin Rush the "father" of modern psychiatry based his entire practice of "medicine" on the belief that mental illness was caused by too much blood in the brain. The cure: remove the blood by any means.
- Pavlov, famous for making dogs drool with the sound of a bell. Was from the widely accepted school that humans were no better than animals who could be trained. To prove this his 6 month old daughter lived in an enlarged climate controlled cage. While he performed non harmful experiments to test that she could be trained like the rats and dogs he had used in his other experiments.
- Eugenics the scientific belief of genetic breeding only the best the poplus has to offer is born of psychiatry. The practice of Eugenics is best seen during WW2..ie. The Holocaust.
- psychiatrists also labeled being black a form of lepercy, and segregation was the only way to keep the population safe. Also created a mental illness for slaves. Symptoms of this illness were a desire to run away from slavery, mouthing off, not wanting to work. The cure: Whipping.
- A Famous shrink in america, drove around in his van the lobotomobile. And offered lobotomies to cure your mental illness. Sometimes performing them right in the van. His style of lobotmy was to stick an ice pick under your eye, move it around a bit scraping the brain until he felt he'd done enough. By the time he was eventually stopped he had done this to over 17,000 people.

Anway the musuem pretty much claims that shrinks are to blame for, the holocaust, slavery, south african apartied, columbine, 911 and alot of other really evil shit.
It's a pretty one sided argument. But they make some very interesting points. And it's hard to argue with the fact that the entire "science" is based on trying to make everyone act "normal". Whatever the fuck that means.
Alot of it is probably shit. But if you got to blame someone.

On the way out I'm trying to let this information sink in. And the cute girl behind the desk who looks like my best friend Janice from when I was 3 wants me to fill out a questionare and give money. I sign one of their many petitions but don't give them my real name because..well they are scientologists. Before I can get duped into giving them any cash. Kevin gives me a call and offers to take me to UCB. Oddly he's only a block away from where I am.

When we get to UCB I'm overwhelmed for a few reasons. One, there is a pretty long line waiting for this comedy show. And I think in my head. What does pH have to do to get that in Chicago.
Then I look right in front of me and sitting outside of the resturant right next to UCB was....
I actually don't know his name. But the fat kid from "the big green and Sandlot. I just looked him up his name is Patrick Renna. It's funny how excited i get by seeing him. He's the first celeb I spot outside of a stuido in LA. Kevin and I shoot the shit in line. Unknown to me there is a very tiny lady standing in line behind me who is using two of those hand crutches to stand. I move around alot when i talk and when Kevin hits me with the punchline of his story (which i cant share here because it is way too personal) I back up and pretty much knock this little lady over. I apologize. She accepts (I'm sure she's used to it) but I make up my mind that I am going to not move and reposition myself like I felt the desire to do. I only wanted to move cause she was hanicapped and i was afraid of getting in her way again. But I wouldn't have moved for anyone else. So i didn't move. Thinking:
"Just treat her like everyone else."
After almost knocking this lady over not once, not twice, but three more times. Kevin grabs me by the shoulders and forcibly moves me. Turns out I was being a dick. Ah well live and learn.
The shows were on a whole pretty awful. Save for the last group who was so good they actually got me to ask about classed at UBC. It reminded me i hadn't seen good improv in a long time. Besides pH i was pretty sure most people had forgotten how ot do it. For the most part I still l think I'm right.
When i get home I make myself two hotdogs and put on the first season of the simpsons. I've found myself checking the personals of craigslist cause i find comfort in knowing other people are also lonely. One girl named Diana, in all caps talks about how her life is falling apart and her family is dying. I send her an email saying she could vent if she wanted too. I feel its the least I could do. She never responds maybe she found someone to talk too. Maybe she killed herself.
I finish the night with a quick read, a shot of jameson and a cig. That makes my total for the day 5 or 6. Still more than I would like. But i did finally learn how to blow SMOKE RINGS.
something ive wanted to know since I was like 5. The combo of book, drink and cig, plus the fact that I was listening to Clare De Lune on repeat made sleep come very easy. Tomorrow will be interesting.

I Am an Island

Yesterday it turns out was a very important day for me in my journey into manhood. Yesterday was the day that my best friend/roommate/writing partnet Jake left California to go to a wedding in VT. This is not the imporant part. What is important is that now that he is gone, begins the first week in my life that I have spent completely alone. Away from family, or any serious connections I finally will have to come to grips with the kind of person I am when no one is around.

So of course I thought I would record it here on my blog which I believe may be safer to write in than my journal. For sure no one is reading this thing. But yes, for the next week I will be completely alone, everyday, until the 23rd when my girlfriend suz flies in for a for days. I will record everything, or at least everything I can remember. Wouldn't it be cool if I went nuts?



DAY 1

The day Jake leaves. My alarm on my phone goes off and I'm awake. Jake is still sleeping but the floor and a sleeping bag make it hard to roll over and fall back to sleep. So I get up. It's only a few minutes of reading "Pygmy" and smoking my morning cigarette when Jake is up. We're both in our pajamas and no shirt and our morning ritual of smoking a bowl happens with little to no words exchanged. Jake showers and packs and I call off work, deciding that today I'd rather relax than work for free. The funny thing is that LAX is literally down the street from my job. So dropping off Jake and going to work is no hassle whatsoever. But those pricks made me work till 8 on tuesday, so fuck em. The drive to LAX is slow, morning traffic is a practical joke. Top speed I reach while going on the 10W is 20 mph. To look at the highway from the sky you'd think LA was being evacuated or that everyone was headed for the beach. The traffic is actually a good thing for a few reasons. I'm still pretty stoned and driving so going slow is always a good thing and it gives me a chance to look into peoples windows. On this drive I see 4 different ladies applying make up to their face with the rapid speed of a EMT bandaging a laceration. We listen to the radio because my ipod player is broken and we listen to the news because there's no guarentee that my internet will work when I get home. Jake and I talk alittle while we approach the airport. And when we finally do our goodbye is brief. A good hug, some "be safes and give my love to the family" and then he's gone and I drive home. In the course of this drive I smoke 3 cigarettes, a first for me. Must be nervous.

When I get home I immediately realize that this will be the state of my apartment for the next few days. And I smoke my last cigarette.

The floor is littered with food from the night before and trash from whenever. DVD's are in a odd semi circle around the TV as if they were worshipping the screen. I DO NOT clean up this mess. Instead I sit down and decide maybe I should get some writing done. Then my phone rings.

Kevin, a red haired, rehabilitated drug addict and alchohaulic who is surely to be the next Hunter S. Thompson, wants to know if I want to go to a Farmers Market with him.

"Yeah dude, I'll go"

"YEAHHHHH!!!"

"Wow, got really excited there"

"Yeah, sorry about that"

I shower and shave. Shave off all my facial hair, realize i've been rocking the goatee for a long time now. When all the hair is gone off my face I don't initially reckognize myself.

"Holy shit...I'm grown." Boy I'll say, I look like a skinnier, happier version of my dad. Shiver.

Kevin is waiting for me in his friends Green Mustang and we head to the famers market. Which isn't a Farmers Market at all, but a Mall called the farmers Market.

It should also be noted that on this ride Kevin and I come up with a skit for a black pimp who dresses in Regal Clothing including a white wig and fencing sword and calls himself "Fancy".



What Kevin has actually done is ask me to accompany him to this mall to get his ipod fixed. Kevin is one of those guys who wants you to come with him getting errands done cause he doesn't want to do it alone. I think this is a Chicago thing. However, he never calls me to join him on the one errand I would like to help him on. Walking his dog, who i think is named Baxter.

The Farmers Market is one of the nicest outdoor malls i've ever been too. And is filled with jailbait. Everywhere I look 16 year olds who look like 18 year olds dressed like 25 year olds walk in herds. Sundresses, Check. Headbands, Check. Purse big enough to fit a small dog into, check. Tan boots, its the fucking chech republic in this bitch. I shake my head but my eyes, well, you can't train your eyes.

At ipod "genius bar", which was going to get me started on a rant but i got distracted by this breathtakingly beautiful black girl at the end of the bar. Instead I quip with Kevin while they tell him his ipod shows signs of water damage thus no warrenty. Here's the inside scoop. Apple and almost every other digitial device company in the world has put tiny watermark indicators in their toys to show if they have gotten wet. If they have then the indicator changes colors and the company makes you pay for a new one. The reason they do this is because they know that eventually. Somehow, somewhere, that shit is going to get wet. They count on it. They are designed to go with you everywhere, water is pretty much everywhere. Eventually the two are going to meet. And even if it's just that your little ipod got caught in the rain, or you dropped it in the snow. That's it. Water indicator changed and your out 99 bucks.

When i finish this rant at the "genius bar" I await to the told that I'm wrong, but the employees are too busy talking about Transformers 2 and how bad it sucked. I look over the employees for real this time, not just checking for the matching apple t-shirts.

Dark hair, check. Skinny jeans, check. Piercings, check. Film/popculture dedicated tattoos...checkmate motherfucker.

This is when I immediately realize everyone working in this store, wants to be making movies. And then I realize everyone in this mall probably wants to be making movies. Everyone in this area, this block, this town. Everyone in everystore and resturant prolly has some script they think is great or some short that is going to blow the worlds mind. I am one of them. This comes and goes so quickly I barely have time to scratch the surface of it. Then poof, it's gone.

But in that time Kevin has his new ipod and we're off to eat.

This mall has a hidden cafeteria filled with all kinds of mom and pop owned small shops. No McDonalds, no Wendy's or any other kind of fast food establishment. Not even a Sabarro. But there was a Barbershop Quartet who would sing to your girlfriend if you paid them. They weren't very good but no matter where we were in the food court I could always see them. Was probably the pinstrips.
After a porksandwich we went to best buy where i purchased Raising Arizona and School Daze. Both of them the second film of the Coen Brothers and Spike Lee respectively.
By the time I get home I've smoked 4 cigs. Hmmmm.
I smoke the rest of the resin in the bowl and pop in Raising Arizona. While I watch the movie I talk with my friend Sean who again tries to talk me into breaking up with my girlfriend. Again I tell him I'd rather not.
Raising Arizona=Awesome.
When the movie is over I need to go somewhere but I'm too broke to do anything. So i make the very grown up decision ( at least in my mind) to go and buy food at Ralphs to last me the week. I also steal many power and candy bars. On the way to the car i think about that time almost a year ago i told pH i was stealing from Jewel. People looked at me all wierd. Now stealing is just a part of my life. Keeps the belly and the wallet full. And in these economic times I'll do whatever I can to keep my head above water.
When I get home I get a call from suz saying she's on the field watching Billy Joel and Elton John. She's close enough so that when she takes a video of it on her cell, I can see their faces. It turns out that Billy Joel and ELton John are two of my favorite artists. Turns out Suz is my girlfriend. Lonliness sets in bad. I make some pasta and pop in School Daze.
School Daze= What the fuck?! A Spike Lee Musical? Unforgettable

Tonight I sleep on a mattress for my first time ever in LA. All in all its only okay.
but I know in the morning I will be missing all of the following.
Cigs, Check. Pot, Check. Money,Check. Plans, Check. Jake....well you know.

Life I'm Living....

-Job Hunt continues. Front page of the LA TIMES read 496,000 jobs lost in June. Just graduated college and got an employee of the year award under by belt still couldn't get hired at a movie theater. It's summer so scripts won't be selling till september.

-Still got no bed...but 3 couches. We found two of them just sitting outside our apartment, the other one is on the balcony. The palm trees that blocked us in and kept us invisible from the street got cut down the other day, so I can sit and relax on while looking at the sky or "downtown" LA. If I'm feeling special I'll go up to the roof where I can see LA stretch on for miles in every direction. Tiny little orange and tan boxes filled with mostly orange and tan people(is that racist?). If I look north I see the Hollywood sign, it's right there everyday, haven't been here long enough for that to stop being cool. At night to the East someone puts on a fireworks show. They echo like gunshots which have also become a familiar sound.

-Working on scripts now. Building a bulk of work and preparing for the release. As much as I need a job. I want to finish these guys. Which brings me to my next point.
-Most (American) Movies Suck Now- I was going to rant about this here. But I think I'll rant about it in another post.
- Which brings me too- I'm proud of the work I'm doing right now.
- Friend who let us crash on his couch our first weeks in town has had a string of bad luck. All of a sudden he's crashing on our couch. *Note to Self* Nothing is permanent:be careful with your money* . Friend was good to us, now we good to him. We sat on the couches and split cash for food. When we could we'd 420 around some chinese food. Watching his movies and Rocky and Bullwinkle. Not going to lie, really good times. Had that bittersweet goodbye when he left. Sad because he's my friend and because we all know what his leaving signifies. That this place is unpredictable, and lawless, and that even living here a year doesn't mean that your set. If chance can decide that he needs to go home. Chance may decide that I have to go home. But I'm also happy that I have my place back to myself. That i can walk around in my pajama pants without shame.
-Graduating in 2009 will one day be a badge of honor or an excuse. It'll be "I graduated in 2009 and still I made something of myself" or "I graduated in 2009, I never had a chance". I don't think I'd be prone to say either of those things. But I do think it's something people will say.
- I'm maturing. At least I think I am.
-And I look fantastic.

Long Live The King

In case you haven't heard Michael Jackson is dead. I like the rest of the nation have been in mourning over his death. And it would seem as if everyone has had the same response, no one ever really thought he was going to go anywhere. 50 is still a really young age to be dropping off and I think no one was prepared for how connected we all really were to him and his music.

I also think its interesting that I can't think of another celebrity who will cause this much pain when he dies. Possibly Elton John or Stevie Wonder but I don't know. Jackson was up there with Elvis and Lennon in terms of musicians who defined their era. Jackson's era was the 80's and I don't know if the 90's or the zero's really have someone like that, Cobain's already dead. Which I guess is maybe the whole point of the 90's anyway: dying off before reaching your full potential.

Anyway I'm not going to talk about how much Michael Jackson meant to me. It's true I did spend alot of my time practicing the moonwalk and headbob. I know the words to ALL of his songs. I've watched that VHS movie of him with those two kids where he turns into Mecha-Michael like 100,000,000 times. I remember gathering around the TV to see the debute of "Do You Remember the Time" at my grandma's house. Memories that I'm sure everyone shares.
But I DO want to talk about the memorial service which happened today. I'm in LA now and am in the hub of where all of this has went down but I feel like everyone knows or knew so much more than I do about this situation because I don't own a TV. So i missed the constant Jackson mentions on every channel, didn't see the constant run of music videos. I found out he died, held back my tears, listened to all his songs on the way home, had a shot in his honor and that was about it. So imagine my surprise when i found out that a memorial was going to be held at the Staples Center in his honor. It went something like this:

Earlier this morning on the drive to work:
Radio: Today thousands are gathered at the Staples Center in memoriam of the late King of Pop. Tickets were auctioned off to fans who will gather while celebrities and friends pay their respects.
Me: Aww that's nice.
Radio: The funeral service has just ended and the motorcade is making it's way to the Staples Center where they will place Jackson's coffin on a pedestal for all to see.
Me: Wait...What?!
Radio: That's right. You heard me. Thousands of people gathered so we can place Michael Jackson's casket on a pedestal.
Me:Holy shit.
Radio: And if that hasn't sent the message home...did I mention it's a gold plated casket.
Me: No Shit.
Radio: You're telling me.

I went to work trying to explain why I thought this was wrong. But everyone gave me the same response. "It's Michael, what did you think was going to happen." Which I guess is a solid point. And I'll be the first to admit I have a problem with idolitry. But there seemed to be a missing of the point going on. We as American's have literally watched Jackson live and die before our eyes. From a child to a man child he struggled through life, and NONE of us gave him a break ever. His celebrity and talent as an entertainer were both his gift and his ultimate curse. And no one can argue the strain of his life eventually put him in a postion that lead to his inevitable demise. What I don't like is that even after this lifetime lesson, we as a people or even more so the Jackson Family could not allow this man to finally have some rest. Even after death we still made him put on one more show. It feels wrong to me. It feels wrong that his father who beat the crazy into him is promoting his fucking record label. It feels wrong to me that Magic Johnson is talking about how watching him perform made him a better basketball player. It seems wrong to me to hold his child at a microphone while she's sobbing so we can thrust her into the limelight as we thrusted her father.
I really feel like we missed the point. I feel like he deserved, more by giving him less. I feel like making tax payers pay 3.5 million dollars so he can have a golden casket in the midst of a great depression is wrong. I'm not saying not to do it. I'm just saying there is no tact. I'm saying respect is out the window.

I'm saying I should stop expecting so much.

Rest easy Michael. You were the King, but you were also just a man.

Take it To the Next Level