Oh Katie!!



Excerpt from Hot Gossip in the Entertainment section of MSN today:

The PDA- and PR-loving pair shook off the chill on Friday, when they landed in Miami to spend some time with Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith, who costarred with Cruise in "Collateral."

Once again, People has all the details, reporting that the foursome enjoyed dinner together Friday night before hitting a South Beach hotspot, where they hung out into the wee hours as Holmes "kept her arms around" Cruise and hugged him from behind as they exited (a patented and much-photographed move we like to call the "rear Katie").

*********************

The Rear Katie: When you pay a woman $5million+ over 5 years and artificially inseminate her in the name of martians-fearing pseudo-religion in a desperate attempt to mask your flagrant homosexuality, then have her cling to you like a PR-oozing backpack in public for gratuitous photo ops.

Not to be confused with:

The Rusty Trombone: The act of performing anal cunnilingus while reaching up above the testicles to manually administer quick up and down motions to the penile shaft, resulting in a violent yet pleasant explosion.

I've been tossing and turning for 8 nights straight. There's something in the peripheral of my mind that I can't quite convince to materialize...some memory...some taste of the past...I've been pretending not to be watching it in hopes it'll step out of the shadows...but it just glides seamlessly around the edges...old songs on the radio just flare up that itch. Why are we born into a web of logic that doesn't allow us to see our accumulated pasts? I bet it's something simple, like the abrupt smell of an infant morning in some distant life when I woke up to find that for a one ephemeral second, everything suddenly made sense.

After finishing a nice Toni Kukoc inbound alley-oop, Bucks forward Andrew Bogut got help celebrating his winning shot from Jermaine Jackson, left, Mo Williams and Jiri Welsch. The Bucks beat the Spurs, 109-107, in overtime.

Did anyone see this game? Bogut was AWESOME. He also had a flop under the basket that gave Duncan a phantom foul that was worthy of a Ginobili.

Interesting subject but what the hell is this essay about? The guy's conclusions and reasoning are idiotic, unfocused, unsupported and unprofessionally personal.

"The impact on the narcissistic Black ego that has used the white woman (instead of God) to compensate for his underlying feelings of inadequacy is to increase his sense of rejection and associated rage."

Instead of God? Is this really objective discourse?

For the white woman, possession of the Black man subconsciously serves to commemorate the defeat of the white man's mortal enemy. The object of her true love and desire is the white man. Once the Black man submits to her she sees him as weaker than the white man, who will never submit to her. At this point she taunts the Black man with the white man.

Look on myspace. The stereotypical "white girls who love black guys" (outside of a healthy appreciation of their attractiveness or a desire for adult compatibility) are the ones who have low self-esteem, take provocative pictures flaunting a forced promiscuity and a desperate need to be desired by men who symbolize ultimate masculinity who will either debase them or be "tamed" by the girl's desirability. They have no sense of empowerment whatsoever that would allow them to recognize a man submitting to her, nor any way to truly obtain that sort of power balance, giving away any power or respect they might be able to obtain. These girls are not respected and are regarded as whores by the black guys they chase (Exhibit A: One black college basketball player on Myspace who had plenty of said girls commenting on his website claimed his hobbies were--basketball, fucking, finding out why white chicks love that black dick). Another reason a woman who is more empowered but seeks out black men solely because they are black men is that she is looking for a higher level of masculinity due to disappointment with her perceived impotence of white men (ie their fathers). There can be many theories or arguments made, but I really don't think white woman chase black men in an effort to prove they are weaker than white men, or to show their superiority. I think when a white girl chases black men for something beyond appreciating them or having individual compatibility with someone who happens to be black reveals more the insecurities and psychological flaws of the the white woman than a perceived weakness in the black man.

Regardless, poorly written essay. How the hell does this guy have a PhD?

Courtesy of the Magnificent Lengli:

Google the phrase "(Your name) looks like" and find the best one from the first page of results. Don't forget to put it in quotes, otherwise it won't work. Add yours to the bottom of the list and repost this.

1. Paul looks like hed be at home at an Upper East Side yuppie bar.
2. Rhonda looks like she has a sore ass too.
3. JP looks like the last five minutes of a porno flick--one big blur.
4. Billy looks like he should be on a skateboard, but instead he's in the basement stuffing recycled, shredded paper into plastic bags that fill endless boxes of Worm-A-Roos awaiting shipment (the paper goes to the worms, too).
5. Although Howie looks like a square, he knows the language of the streets and regularly delivers homeboy come-ons.
5. Nick looks like he's been hangin' with Tara Reid or something. He is a geekwad.
7. Spencer looks like the lead character in the musical play "Springtime for the Caliphate."
8. Sylvia looks like shes trying to emulate Angela from My So Called Life9.Chad looks like a cross between a beaten up Michael Bolton and Twisted Sister's Dee Snider on a bad day.
10. Sandie, looks like you have been elevated to Impressive Mortal.
11. Val looks like she just seen My massive man stick. *(copied directly, do not hold me accountable for shoddy grammar)
12. Christine looks like a demented vampire about to feed.
13. [Queen] Bess looks like a hotel bar, with its entrance similar to the downtown, city hotels seen in numerous Hollywood movies, but once inside you'll soon see there are no lobbies, grand staircases and grouchy concierges to deal with.
14. erika-erika looks like a good potential binibining pilipinas candidate and contenderfor the miss universe crown.
15. Sarah looks like a jockey in training with a Prince Valiant haircut.::::Attention::::The following two quotes clearly explain my dichotomy-b.
16a. Brian looks like a ghost of his former selfashen-faced and hollow-eyed, with the huge metal brace that holds his shattered pelvis together sticking out of his battered body like a pair of handlebars.
16b. brian looks like something straight out of medieval times. all he needs is some tights, a white horse, a floppy hat with a feather, a trumpet, and should start every comment with "hear ye, hear ye"::::Attention::::mine too-M.
17a. Little Matthew looks like an angel (and, from the hospital photo, like he has giant hands).
17b. Matthew looks like a total douche.
18. Stephanie looks like Jose Canseco...luckily for me that's NOT TRUE!!! I'm much more buff than that guy.
19.... Well, I know someone that is cuter Don't know what's Pablo looks like, buthe can't be prettier, no cause it's impossible. novalee. ...
20- nicole looks like your grandma
21 - Johnny looks like a nice verison of Anna Wintour in drag
22-what i need is to know if people think that Helen looks like a fish so she will stop thinking she is good looking.
23 janet looks like shes about to do something very naughty with the sparkler
24. Lauren looks like she's heard about smiling but isn't sure of the technique
25. Sean looks like the olympic representative from the planet of the apes.
26a.- "the sexual appeal in doing a black man is uuuuugh, Mr. Pete looks like a chimp when he fucks"
26b.- John looks like he's doing a dopey dance, Keith looks like he's doing one too, and Pete looks like a woman.
27 -- I look like im ready to kill and caty looks like "COOL ITS A GUN!"
28. Emily looks like trouble.
29. Zack looks like a younger, tougher Brad Pitt who's spent a couple nights sleeping behind a dumpster.
30. Samantha looks like she's auditioning for a role as a porn star, or at least as a hooker who just stepped off the Greyhound bus in NYC and needs to raise fast cash quickie pronto.
31. Jamie, looks like some superhero whose name I can't recallat the moment.
32. Ember looks like sleeping roadkill (she sleeps all flat out on her side or back like she's dead) so I better Go bug her!
33. Lauren looks like the love child of everything that scared the shit out of me when I was ten; ventriloquist dummies, witches, bees, and the movie, Troll.
34. Julia looks like she's ready to go home. Yelena fondles the trophy as Mark beams and Corin checks his camera.

Anyone who wants to know the human psyche will learn next to nothing from experimental psychology. He would be better advised to abandon exact science, put away his scholar's gown, bid farewell to his study, and wander with human heart throught the world. There in the horrors of prisons, lunatic asylums and hospitals, in drab suburban pubs, in brothels and gambling-hells, in the salons of the elegant, the Stock Exchanges, socialist meetings, churches, revivalist gatherings and ecstatic sects, through love and hate, through the experience of passion in every form in his own body, he would reap richer stores of knowledge than text-books a foot thick could give him, and he will know how to doctor the sick with a real knowledge of the human soul.

-- Carl Jung

Your moment of zen...

Or...whatever is the furthest point away from zen.

J & R's Mint Lemonade Can Now Be Found At:

Buzz Coffee
7623 Beverly Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90036

Brew N' Beans
11150 Santa Monica Blvd
Los Angeles, CA 90025

Please stop by either of these two locations if you're in the area and ask for J&R's Mint Lemonade!!

Thank you for your support. :)

Testicle Story

I went to lunch with Reggie today and driving back, I got bored so I said...

"Did you see the testicle picture I put up on my blog?"

"What testicle picture?"

"The picture of your testicles I took while you were sleeping."

"You didn't take a picture of my testicles."

"Yes I did. You were sleeping and your testicles were hanging out of your shorts, so I stuck my camera into the opening and took a picture. With the flash. Don't worry, I didn't say they were yours. I mean, it just looks like the landscape surface of Mars. With hair. I doubt people even realize that it's a testicle."

"Did you really take a picture of my balls?"

"Yes."

"No you didn't. You're lying."

[long beat]

"DID YOU REALLY TAKE A PICTURE OF MY BALLS?"

"I don't know why you're blowing this out of proportion. It was artistic. People probably can't tell they're testicles--"

"Everyone can tell they're testicles. Everyone knows what testicles look like--"

"How would you know? Have YOU taken a lot of pictures of testicles?"

"THEY JUST KNOW! You BETTER not have put up a picture of my testicles."

"I really don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this. No one even knows they're yours. They just probably think it's an artsy picture but if you're gonna freak out about it, I'll take it down."

"I'm gonna call Sareet and ask her if you put a picture of my balls on your blog."

"She's not gonna wanna get involved. I mean, when she asked me if those were your testicles--"

"SHE KNOWS THOSE WERE MY BALLS? Who else knows that picture was of me?"

"Uh, no one really. Just Sareet, AD..."

"You're lying. You didn't take a picture of my testicles. Did you?"

"Look, you're totally blowing this out of proportion and I don't know what the big deal is. It was artistic and not a big deal."

"Julia, do you know how this makes me look? This makes me look like an IDIOT."

"Nooooo...it makes you look like you're dating someone artistic. It was a very artistic picture."

"This makes me look like an IDIOT, Julia. First people see me in...that picture with the...MITTENS...now this!"

"It's art, Reggie. I think people realize that and appreciate it."

"You took a picture of my BALLS. What would you do if I took a picture of your nipple while you were sleeping?"

"That's just FUCKED UP! I took a picture of your testicles because you were sleeping and they were hanging out, and I thought it was cute so I took it out of artistic inspiration. If you took a picture of my nipple and put it up on the internet, that's just spite."

"But what if I had taken a picture of your nipple first and put it on the internet? How would you feel?"

"Well, then I would respect the artistic inspiration, but you can't do it now because if you ever take a picture of my nipple, it's going to be because of revenge and not art, and that's just the sign of a small person."

"Ooooh...I can't believe you. Did you REALLY take a picture of my balls and put them on your blog?"

"Look, if you're so upset about it, I'll take it down."

"I don't think you really did it."

"Fine, I didn't."

"When did you take this picture?"

".....last week. Then I cropped it to get a good close up so it looked like the surface of Mars. But with hair. I titled it 'Furry Mars.'"

"I thought you called it Testicle Picture."

"No, that's just what I called it in the context of this conversation. The caption under the picture on my blog says 'Furry Mars.'"

"I can't believe you did that. You had better be kidding because that's just so wrong."

We arrive at my office.

"Okay, I was just kidding. I didn't put a picture of your testicles on my blog."

"I KNEW you were kidding. Jesus Christ."

"I've gotta go now. I've gotta go take the picture down."

Slam door. Leave.

[disclaimer: this fictional picture was never posted nor taken. Or was it?....]

He looks like he would have been more appropriately dressed had he complemented his outfit with tan argyle socks to match his shoes. That white on brown ensemble just makes him look gaudy.

Late Recap of the Film Shoot (11/11-11/14)

This is a much belated warning that Mercury Retrograde is once again upon us, so beware of mechanical/electronic malfunctions, don't buy gadgets, beware of miscommunications and don't sign contracts. We've got another week together.

I've also learned recently to NEVER shoot a movie during Mercury Retrograde. We shot the film on Nov. 11th-14th up in Agua Dulce on this canyon road, and the production was hindered by all kinds of bizarre technical issues and miscommunications.

So the film is called Pieces and it's about a couple in a dysfunctional marriage who start thinking they see severed body parts lying in the middle of a dark rural road. We were going to be shooting 3 nights in a row, basically from sundown to sunrise, outside on a dirt road in the freezing cold. We all knew going into it that it would be a hard shoot, but we had put together an amazing crew so we weren't worried.

The first day, our call time was 1pm but due to a couple of accidents on the freeway, one of our signs being blown down and just general confusion regarding country roads, people got lost and we didn't assemble our crew until sundown. This was followed by some technical issues (getting the picture car to start) and we didn't get our first official shot of the night until 10:45pm, a whopping 9.75 hours after our call time. We had issues with our first assistant director who talked a big game but was revealed to have obviously had no experience as an AD, who is basically the hub of communication and order on set. This translated to different departments being ready, but waiting for other departments who were in fact, also ready. We shot until sunrise and all went home to sleep away the day.

Before the next day, I called my mom to tell her about the shoot and how many technical problems we'd had. She recommended setting out an offering of incense and fruit to the spirits of the night, apologizing to them for the disturbance and asking them for accommodation.

I didn't have time to stop by an Asian store to buy incense, so we went to Albertson's instead to pick up some candles and fruit. There were some kids wearing bright vests collecting money outside the doors. I indifferently glanced at them, but had to do a double take. Once inside, I asked Reggie, "Tell me what it says on that kid's vest." I figured, I'd been up all night, had only gotten 4 uncomfortable hours of sleep during the daytime, and it's not impossible that my mind was melting. Reggie does a double take, then squints to make sure. "Holy shit. It says 'Help Retarded Children." Someone had enlisted 12 year old boy scouts to collect money for retarded children. Not kids with special needs. Retarded Children. Way to be PC, guys! I love it.

Unfortunately, the vests distracted me so much, that I forgot to buy fruit. Luckily, Reggie had already picked up some bananas so I set up a shrine of candles and bananas and said a prayer asking for accommodation.

It's common knowledge that the hardest things to work with in film are animals and kids. We had decided to start the second day with the shots of Dana, the wonderdog, where she was required to run across the dirt road with a human head in her mouth.

I couldn't afford to get a real human head on such short notice, but luckily, the amazing Mr. Alex Chen hooked me up with John Goodwin who does Special Effects for CSI: NY. He in turn hooked us up with some pretty real looking severed heads and a couple of arms.

Dana and Claire, her trainer, were amazing to work with. Dana knew how to create a mark and hit it, had a great attitude, and didn't get tempermental with the multiple takes. Her relationship with Claire was also incredibly special...Claire was a very sweet, soft-spoken woman and you could especially see the high level of trust that Dana had in Claire, considering Claire was asking her to run in front of a moving car and Dana would do it unquestioningly and without hesitation each time. We got the shots we needed efficiently and we were all confident that we could make up for the delays that happened the night before.

So we broke for lunch, got the actors ready to do their driving scenes and everyone's in a good mood setting things up. Everything is ready to roll and suddenly, the picture car won't start again. It takes us a few hours to get it started and we're ready to roll, but on the next 5-6 takes, something random would happen, like the lights would go off, or the camera would jam or the sound wouldn't roll, or the actor would drive into a ditch (not kidding. By then it was almost so tragic it was funny. It was an absurd number of technical issues to happen in such a short amount of time). Tensions ran high, people were snapping at each other, and we started seriously worrying if we would get any shots that night. At this point, only about 10% of the movie was in the can.

With 2 hours to go before sunrise, we finally get everything working and we rush through as many scenes as we can, ending strong. Moral is higher as the sun comes up, but we're very behind.

I get home at 8am but spend another hour talking to Reggie, the producer, about the shoot. I think we can still catch up but everything needs to be working. But there's another big problem...we have a big scene coming up first thing the next day that requires 3 rural Mexican gang members...and we don't have any of them. I suggest that we post a Craig's list ad and hope for the best.

I try to get some sleep but reversed schedule with the sun coming in make it hard and I'm up 2 hours later feeling completely ragged and emotionally close to tears out of sheer exhaustion. I call my mom to tell her about all the crazy technical issues that had occurred the night before and she asks me if I had put out the offering. I told her I used candles and bananas and she said, "BANANAS! You NEVER use bananas!" (Okay, I had no idea there were rules to this thing.) She said I had to use round fruits because they represent bounty, and the bigger the better. Apparently bananas are an insult?

We leave for the location, still missing 3 very important extras for the scene we're about to shoot in less than 3 hours, and we get a call from Tito, our editor. He was scheduled to come onto set to take production stills, and he asked if we still needed him to be an extra. The funny thing was that whenever he mentioned that he could be one of the extras, I always thought he was joking. Basically Tito is a big guy from Portugal, but he has a very kind face with warm eyes, so it's hard to believe he could come off as menacing. Nevertheless, we didn't have any extras at this time so we needed him. One down.

We head to Albertson's and I buy the expensive stuff...fuji apples, tangerines and honeydew, the things I've seen my parents put out. My mom suggested that I put out Chinese dishes to share, but I honestly didn't think a 3-entree Panda Express meal in a styrofoam container was going to be that impressive. I set up the shrine, said a long, desperate prayer, and then we were off and running.

Reggie gets a call from this guy who says that he and his brother can be the extras because his brother just got out of prison, was all tatted up and would be perfect for what we were looking for. They were also willing to do PA work (which was what we asked for in the ad), since our PA quit on us after the AD had promised to bump him up to grip and give him more money without permission and we had to come back and say we couldn't do that, considering he didn't have ANY experience as a grip. So based on their word that they have the right look, we tell them to head over to the location immediately.

We set up some shots and crank out some exteriors when I get a call from Reggie on my walkie that the extras are here and "your boy is perfect." I tell him to send them down right away. The extras show up and the featured extra that we need to walk around the car and scare the female protagonist with the implication of being raped is this really sweet kid who's all tatted up. He had his girlfriend with him who was Hispanic and unfortunately very possessive, because when I asked him if he could take off his shirt so I could see his tats (he knew that we may ask him to do the scene shirtless), she positioned herself in the way like she was gonna have some problems. I ignore her, his tats are perfect and he does his scene shirtless. We finish half his scene and then send them back to the trailer to chill until we do the rest of it.

The shoot is going really smoothly, and I honestly think we might be able to catch up. But then Reggie walks down and tells me, "Julia, we have a problem." Apparently the brother of the featured extra was trying to hustle us for more money, figuring that we had already got his brother on film so we would need him or our continuity would be screwed. He wanted extra money, to do no PA work, and to leave in an hour. We figured we wouldn't negotiate with punk terrorists so we paid them a minimum rate, sent them on the way, and then had to figure out creative ways to cheat the continuity. It was more bullshit that we didn't need to be dealing with when we were under the gun.

Luckily, Melanie, our make-up artist is amazing. She made gave Tito a face full of scruff with makeup, worked with his hair and got him to look mean. I gave Tito a flannel shirt that was 2 sizes to small that made him look hulking. He was totally badass and looked so damn cool smoking, that we bumped him up to featured and gave him a line.

We wrapped up the night trying to get the rest of the driving scenes and everything was working incredibly efficiently, but we couldn't beat the sun coming up and ended up getting half of our coverage and none of our driving exteriors. My voice was running out but it managed to make it through the shoot before crapping out as the sun came up (it was completely gone for the next 4 days). We have about 10% of the film left to shoot, and 2 setups to cover to make the driving scenes more dynamic. We definitely need another pick up day.

The experience overall was great because the project is strong and it was so nice to be directing for film again and the crew was INCREDIBLE. I feel like even though we need an extra day in the future which presents continuity challenges and scheduling coordination (not to mention a lot of money outside of the original budget that I have to pay for an extra day), it's probably a blessing in disguise. This gives us a chance to put together a rough cut of the film so we can not only see what we still need, but we can see what I would like to shoot again to really make it a strong film.

We've scheduled this day for Jan. 21st so everyone, please set out candles and melons for me on that night and help us out. At the very least, we'll be cleared from the retrograde so I'm really hoping that we get this all done!

So let my experience serve as a warning to you...do NOT schedule a production during a retrograde if you can help it. That tricky SOB can be a nightmare.

"One of these things is not like the others, one of these things is [unintentionally funny]"

(Reggie and I meet an un-PC but good-intentioned charity outside of Albertson's in Santa Clarita)

Happy Belated Thanksgiving!

http://www.detnews.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20051129/SPORTS0102/511290423/1127

Damn. That would have been ridiculously sweet for us.

Dana the Wonderdog and our loaner head from CSI:NY on set (11/12/05)

is basic incompatibility the consequence or the cause?

I went from reading about D.B. Cooper to finding this random archive of old stories. A really great, riveting time waster.

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-shooting1nov01,0,5728150.story?coll=la-home-headlines

What I worry most is that this will spawn a backlash against people with Asperger's or spawn mass ignorance. It sounded like this kid had some emotional problems that was, if not created by his condition, it was definitely aggravated by it as people with Asperger's will want to interact socially but their skills are so off that they can't seem to have solid relationships the way they see everyone else relating.

It reminds me of that story about King Midas, how everything he touched turned to gold. Imagine when he starts turning the people around him to gold, then he realizes that no matter how much he tries to reach out, it only makes him more and more isolated and lonely.

My brother has Asperger's and anyone who has met him knows how desperately social he is. He'll talk to anyone anywhere. I think when he was growing up, his condition was looked upon with such shame and fear of judgment by my parents that they were always desperately trying to change him or keep him out of situations where he would be judged or compared to other "normal" kids. I was always told that if anyone asked, to just say he's hyper and act like there was nothing wrong. But I think it wore on him because he could feel that nothing he did was right or good enough, and he didn't have any friends outside of really young kids who didn't know that he was "different." His desperation for friends grew to the point that he started telling anyone (random strangers included) "I love you" because he wanted that closeness.

We used to follow him around the gym because he would go and hug all the trainers and employees. It was awful on so many levels, to see how desperate he was to be loved and to see how uncomfortable the people could be or sometimes, downright mean. The only times I fly off the handle and get really crazy mad is when I see people making fun of him behind his back. On the other hand, there are those really kind people who are always nice and patient with him, and it brings you to near tears when you see how kind they are to him. It's a humbling experience, when with each interaction, you pray that people will be kind, and I hate that it's like that. I hate how mad he gets when people like his cousins say they'll come over and play with them, then stand him up because they have better things to do. I hate that I know he's so lonely, but he doesn't have many friends.

He was just here this weekend and I can see a world of difference in him. Over the years, his social skills have improved and his emotional scars have gotten better as we build his self-esteem. I am especially thankful to my friends who treat him very well and interact with him on a peer level. This has done wonders for him because he feels like an adult here, and that he can be valued based on his level of interaction rather than being automatically dismissed and looked down upon. His negotiation skills have improved exponentially as we've taught him how to communicate the things he wants and negotiate, giving him an environment where he is validated and his ideas and feelings are respected. I truly believe that he could achieve a level of independent one day as he's much higher functioning than most of the other kids at his school, but the next hurdles are to give him solid vocational skills and find him employment so he feels that he has a purpose, and help him build friendships outside of me and my friends.

Eventually I would like him to live close to me. He graduates next February and we have to figure out his next step. It upsets me a lot that I'm not in a financial place where I can get him a place and a full-time caretaker to assist him during this transition. I'm really hoping that with all the things I have going, that I can get to the place where I can afford to take care of him. I think he would mature more quickly if he could be in a consistent environment where he felt he was perceived as an independent adult the way he wants to be seen. I think it's hard for him to go from staying with me, where we tell him he's responsible for himself for better or for worse, to going home where he feels like he's a child. Even if my parents aren't treating him that way, I think it's the natural developmental conflict where the child has to truly feel that they are autonomous before returning to the parent-child relationship feeling that they are truly peers.

The first thing though, is to deal with his medication. He's been on all kinds of crazy medication since he was young that made him gain weight and have raised his blood pressure to levels of middle-aged stock brokers'. Now he's got problems with his kidneys and they put him on more medication for that. It seems like they keep adding medication to treat the side effects of the first medications, and from my own experience with meds, once your body gets dependent on them and you miss taking them, you get pretty crazy and it turns into a really bad force in your life that you have to contend with.

I really worry about all this stuff so much. It scares me more than anything the thought of living without my brother.

So I Guess the Moral Of the Story Is:

If you're a single parent, don't date someone who's super into Star Trek.

Daily Recap

I went to the chiropractor today. I had to take x-rays for my back which is nothing new since back trouble has been a bit of my legacy. What was a new addition was the lead codpiece they made me wear when I took the x-rays. I did my best not to giggle while the chiropractor implied that I had to keep the piece over my crotch by directing it in reference to my belly button. "Yeah, just make sure you keep it a few inches below the belly button..." Just say, over my cooter, buddy. Let's call a cookie a cookie.

We headed up to Griffith park to visit the animal wrangler who has a dog we'd like to use for our film. She was stuck on set with some huge 600 lb pigs (they were like miniature ponies) so we hung out until she could get away to show us her dog. The thing is cute but totally Disney, all white with brown spots. We need like a wild coyote look and she promises she can dirty the dog up to make it look like a stray. Hopefully it all works out since we can't really afford more.

Afterwards, we headed over to Hollywood to see Dos Spanish Flies perform. Those guys are awesome. If you're in LA and you ever get a chance to see them, please do. They're like Tenacious D with a randy mariachi theme. And the guys, Ron and Eric, are so ridiculously nice; they performed for our comedy show in August and it's always such a pleasure to see them and watch them perform. I feel like lately, I've met so many talented people that I get really excited about my life...being surrounded by such nice, cool and talented people has been inspiring. We gave them a copy of the DVD of the show so hopefully they're happy with it. If I knew how to upload the video clips, I would. The Dos Spanish Flies are gonna be big some day.

Our final stop for the night was The Abbey, West Hollywood's most prestiged gay bar. I wanted to show Reggie their pastry case for ideas for our restaurant, and plus, they have amazing fresth fruit mojitos. We ordered a couple of fresh rasberry mojitos and Reggie pretended to be the muscle queen while I played the player lesbian. I got a great picture of Reggie rubbing some guy's stomach. Meanwhile, I was busy winking at bulldykes. It was a lot of fun. Gay bars are unabashingly meat markets. I love it.

I have to make a prediction here. Lately, I've been meeting so many amazingly down to earth, talented people. It's both inspiring and awe-inspiring that these people haven't hit it big when meanwhile, a lot of lesser talents are consistently getting work in this town. Our editor, Tito da Costa, is an amazing talent. He's brilliant, so easy to work with, and such a nice, pleasant person to be around. Check out his reel...if any of you ever need a brilliant editor who will save you a shitload of money, call Tito. I have immense admiration for him. So my prediction...Tito is from Portugal and he has a wife and 2 kids back there who he can't afford to support out here. He's hoping to get to the point where he has enough work coming in that he can afford to bring them out here and support him. The guy is ridiculously talented and cutting edge, but just needs that opening. There's no way that someone like that will continued to be overlooked. Hopefully, he can keep the faith and stick to it, because I guarantee you, by this time next year, he will be able to bring his family over. He is too talented and innovative for this industry to continue to ignore.

I am drunk. I have 2 1/2 drinks tonight, but it's enough to make me damn near cross-eyed. I'm off to bed. Peace and love and as Brian just said, "Lots of lesbian action."

I'm out!

I joined myspace. Whatever that means. Most people's profiles are crazy with too much going on. Mostly, I just look at the pictures of people who comment, and wonder why all the girls look so slutty.

Why Do We Allow the Idiotic, Self-Serving People Be In Charge?

There are two types of strong "soulmate" connections you'll have in this world. There are the deep soul connections that are encountered between two people who can actually see, feel and experience the other person's visions which are only communicated on a psychic spiritual level. This connection has the potential for an intimacy so spiritually deep that each person accesses the true self and all-encompassing love that exists in the part of the other person that isn't of this world.

The other type is the guardian soulmate. Often our individual spiritual needs are in contradiction to our earthly needs. In order to pursue spiritual needs, a person can not adequately devote enough attention to the state of his physical survival. You will meet people who, while they do not provide the same spiritual access and opportunity for exploration as a higher soul connection, their devotion to you is so strong that they take it upon themselves to be responsible for the survival of your body and mind on this earthly plane.

I think to different people, we're different types of connections, the way jigsaw pieces fit with one piece one way, and another in another way. For example, I am a guardian soulmate to my brother. While I don't experience a deep spiritual intimacy with him, I am nevertheless tied to him spiritually and I take it upon myself to be responsible for his survival. Meanwhile, I have had strong soul connections with random people I've met in life, even when it didn't make sense or shouldn't have on this plane. These connections helped me evolve and see more of the secret linings of the universe. The deeper these connections are, the more in contradiction they are with life on this plane, because being immersed in one of these connections is the equivalent of dunking your head underwater...while immersed, you are deficient in the ability to adequately protect yourself or look out for danger on land.

Both these connections are integral to a person's evolution, whether on this plane or on a spiritual level. But like the joke about hating it when your wife and your mistress don't get along, sometimes there's a conflict or resistance when you try to integrate your life and connections on one plane with your life and connections on the other. I personally don't think these connections are in competition with one another, and if life allowed us the luxury to nurture both, I think we would gain amazing knowledge and experience in regards to what we are, where we come from and where we are within the dimensional folds of the universe.

I had these dreams last night that have kept me feeling really off and disturbed all day. Maybe there are things brewing under the surface that haven't broken into my consciousness yet, but I know I'm feeling really off and need my space right now.

The first one, my conscious self decided that I needed to experience the immediate inevitability of death (it was like I was conscious before the dream started). Then I went into this museum where they were showing executioner's equipment. I was with a tour group or something, but they separated me from the group and said that I was scheduled to be executed because people have to be sacrificed at random for the good of the whole. They showed me this machine that was like a guillotine, except it cuts people in half and they bleed to death. It was supposedly much worse than a regular guillotine because you are conscious longer before you die. As they prepped me, the executioner explained that the person lays down and then they douse their torso with boiling water to burn away the skin and fat that may inhibit the blade's ability to cut through the body cleanly. They laid me down and I was terrified, and kept trying to imagine what it would feel like at each point of the procedure, and ultimately, what it would feel like to die. The executioner took pity on me and instead of dousing me with boiling water, he poured a bowl of water that was only lukewarm. But then the blade rushed down and cut me in half.

Then I was bumped into another dream...like it was another life.

In this one, I was in a good place in my life, and I was living back in a college town where I was comfortable, making money and ultimately happy. Brian lived with me in this dreamscape as he does in real life. There's this little corner diner that we loved to go to in the dream, a place where we could hang out, mess around and everyone was cool. It was a comfortable space. I think I may have owned it.

One day, this guy I used to date walked in. We had run into each other in real life a few weeks ago and it was a bit of a shock to the system because after a while, you forget (or force yourself to forget) that certain people even exist anymore. So he walks in in my dream and it's like that scene all over again. We see each other and we're both caught off guard; out of the pure reflexivity of honesty, we're civil and a bit happy to see each other because it's like seeing someone you used to care about, even if a lot of bad things happened to bury that connection. He looked tired and worn out from life and it truly made me sad. I asked him how our boss was doing (we used to work together) and he said, "Good," paused, then said, "Actually, not so good. He was just diagnosed with a brain tumor." This hit me hard because as awkward as things were left between my boss and I, it really devastated me that he would be going through that experience, as much that he was in pain as it brought to forefront the reality that just by being born, we're all destined for some very difficult, devastating times.

As this person and I stood across from each other, I think our brains started catching up with our messy emotional history, and I remembered how much anger I had towards him. As the hate crept back (and I could see him shoring up his own defenses), I just said goodbye and left.

I was walking home when it began to rain. Since I had previously been at the gym, I was only wearing shorts and a t-shirt and it was very cold. I had gone down a long way when he happened to drive by. He offered me a ride and even though I wanted to be proud and decline, it also seem fated that this interaction with him was necessary, that it was the universe moving us together for us to finalize closure.

He drove me home and I still had a lot of anger swirling around in my head--I was being catty and passive aggressive with my comments. I think he got irritated too so when his phone rang (the ring was "Naughty Girl" by Beyonce), he picked it up and said, "Oh hi [his girlfriend at the time we last spoke years ago]," like she was so important to him, even though I knew they were broken up. So we get to my place and I jump out of the car, slamming the door and saying, "Have a great life." Totally bitchy. But then I hesitated. I was thinking, for better or worse, this is my chance at closure, and I would be spiting myself if I walked away from it. He must have seen me hesitate because he broke the moment down to the truth. "I've missed you, too," he said. It was the one thing I could never have brought myself to admit.

I got back into the car and what followed was kind of an emotional epilogue--I knew that life was not about all the things that derail a relationship or make it messy, not about who the people are as their manifestations in this lifetime, but about something deeper that connects us. I think we really do recognize people we were once very close to in a past life or in another manifestation, and I think it's very hard and confusing when society prevents these people from being close to one another, or when it keeps them from ever being truthful to each other. I think the very inherent loss that comes with being born is something that tinges my personal human experience and my outlook on life. I'm always searching for those connections that remind me of something that was so beautiful and safe and whole a long time ago, but no matter what, I still can't remember what it is exactly. It's always on the edges of my mind, just out of my grasp, driving me crazy, because in some way, I suspect it's the key to my own complete inner unity and peace.

I think at the end of the day, none of this really matters. All it is after all the smoke clears and the mirrors are boxed up and carted away is that connection between people. And as more and more things disrupt our daily lives and cause us to challenge the things that we value or use as currency within our society, all the facades and trivialities will be stripped away and only the truth that exists in the honest most basic connections between people will be revealed as the only thing that has absolute value.

Car Alarms Are Really Sensitive Presents:

A Cultural Lesson About:

Japan

This site makes me want to throttle stupid people:

http://www.raptureready.com/index.php

everyone who is around you wants something from you. whether it's something superficial such as your money or your attention, or something deeper such as your love or your nurturing. sometimes it's something as simple and non-emotional as wanting to be near another human being so as to not feel so alone. maybe they hope to catch glimpses of themselves in the reflections of your eyes.

but everyone wants something from you, or they wouldn't be drawn to you.

sometimes i think about the people who approach me, the people who spend time with me or the people who have fixed stations in my life; i wonder what it is they want from me. then i wonder how honestly they would answer me if i asked them, or if they would even know.

why are we drawn to each other?
what is it we seek?
what is it that makes it so hard for there to be honesty between people?

love,
julia

It's been raining the last few days. I know there are a lot of people who don't like the rain, but I love it with all of my heart. There is no cleaner or more truthful time than when it rains. I love the smells, the sounds, the feel. I love how people walk around lost in their own worlds, and I wonder what these worlds are like. The past comes back to say hello, as though now, finally, is a safe time to say goodbye. And everything at all seems to be at ease.

Most of all, the echoing stops.

(you miss it, don't you? whatever it is that once captivated every imagineable particle of you)

Today God granted everyone in LA a free car wash. What more can you ask for than that?

Weekend Recap

We held our second round of auditions for the short on Saturday morning. We've cast the female role and we're still waiting for word from Danny Trejo's agent regarding the villain role, but we've had a ridiculous time casting the 45-50 year old Caucasian male (intellectual bully). Some actors come in and you can tell that they really don't care if they get the role or not because it's a short. Others are incredibly eager but are wildly underwhelming in their auditions. Some people are amazing, but just not right for the role. We had one guy who was the second coming of Tom Sizemore. He gave a terrifying performance and left no doubt that when his character gets home, he compulsively and viciously beats and/or rapes his wife. Unfortunately, we're looking for a narcissistic academic pussy. The whole process was frustrating since this is our 2nd time around and with the shoot only a month away now, we still haven't cast one of the major roles. The person who gave the best audition had a strong English accent so we've requested that he work with a dialogue coach next week and if he can come to the call back next week with a very convincing American accent, we'll be able to go with him. Meanwhile, Reggie is going to give a certain TV actor a call to see if he'd be willing to do this project. I'm just praying that we have the right person for this role by the end of next week so we can keep everything moving.

We locked down the special fx guy from CSI: NY to create the decapitated head and severed arm that will be integral props to our film. I'm really excited to work with this guy and for someone with such a creatively morbid job, he's a very bright and enthusiastic personality. I always love talking to him on the phone.

Saturday afternoon was spent location scouting. We're looking for desert dirt roads and the search has filled each weekend in the last month with road trips out to the BFE extensions of Southern California. But Matt, our UPM, found us this place in Agua Dulce (which I had never heard of), which is this area just north of Santa Clarita filled with horse and film production ranches. The good news is that it's relatively close to LA, so we won't have to put people up during the shoot.

We went and saw Domino on Saturday night at the Crest. Well, first, we went to the Arclight because we were scouting the area as a potential location for our restaurant (love it!), and we assumed that everything plays at the Arclight, so Domino would be there. Well, it wasn't. But who WAS there, was Jake Gyllenhaal and his other cast/crew mates from Jarhead, there for a cast and crew screening. He was standing outside so I called Digit Whit who loves him to tell her that he was here. Funny enough, she happened to be heading over anyway. Jake was drawing quite a circle of admirers. Meanwhile, Elijah Wood, who seemed to be impatiently waiting for a friend, was standing just a few yards off with no admirers . Reggie asked me if Elijah was gay, because he stands just like his gay cousin. I wasn't sure. Since Brian loves celebrity sightings, I felt it was my duty to call him. I left him message saying, "Hey, I'm at the Arclight. Jake Gyllenhaal is here and so is Elijah Wood, who looks really, really gay."

Later today, I asked Brian if he had gotten my message; he checked his voicemail but apparently it never showed up. Strange. It's like the message had somehow gotten routed to some phantom message limbo, or to some random stranger somewhere out there who got the cryptic message, "Hey, I'm at the Arclight. Jake Gyllenhaal is here and so is Elijah Wood, who looks really, really gay." I think I would be tickled maroon if I got a crazy, random message like that.

So anyway, back to watching Domino at the Crest. The Crest is this cool little theater on Westwood Blvd that has a large mural of Hollywood spanning three of its walls, and twinkling "stars" on the ceiling. I was really looking forward to Domino since I love screen girls who kick ass. The first 20 minutes of the movie were badass (check out the scene where she asks the sorority bitch if she's had a nose job...) but the rest of it focused on a convoluted and complicated heist plot that completely buried Domino and drove me crazy. Brian Austin Green getting punched in the nose while playing himself is priceless though.

Sunday morning found me waking up to my new iPod alarm clock (Trent Reznor's mix of Enigma's Sadness). Went and had S.O.S. (shit on a shingle) at Doughboy's with Brian as I flirted with my usual waiter, then headed over to Starbuck's to do some writing and work. Reggie met me over there and we went over the business plan for the restaurant. We headed over to his friend Elvis' sister's BBQ, where we watched a dog hump a stuffed bone for an hour and then came back to our car to find a praying mantis on the tire. Came home, watched Spartan with Val Kilmer and Al Bundy (I'm convinced that David Mamet's films point to a psychology characterized by a control freak who relies on intellectual dissection to deal with his personal and existential anxieties. But then again, doesn't that describe us all?)

And now, onto the moment you've all been rolling your eyes at:

Fantasy basketball season is about to rear its ugly head and our leagues draft tomorrow. Reggie and Alex are going to take me on this year. My secret must-have picks are Baron Davis (I think he's going to stay healthy this year), Ron Artest (he was a fantasy monster before he got suspended last year) and Dwight Howard (who I think may show flashes of Amare). For those of you playing fantasy, I think the sleepers (people you'll get relatively cheaper than their true value) this year will be:

Rafer Alston (trade to Houston where Bobby Sura is just about done with his career will benefit him. Watch out for his bad FG%)

Donyell Marshall (will be available late because word is that he's playing behind Drew Gooden. But honestly, how long will it take Gooden to work himself into the doghouse?)

Emeka Okafor (since my definition of sleeper is someone you can get cheaper than their true value, he's going to give you consistent double-doubles while stay healthier and have more stamina late in the season)

Andrei Kirilenko (don't forget about him...there are sexier picks this year but don't forget he started out last year averaging close to 5 blocks per game)

Bonzi Wells (I'm not a big fan of his but he's going to be a big part of the Sacramento offense. He's known for inconsistency, but when he's on, he'll give you big points and steals)

Rookies:

I like Hakim Warrick.

Actually, I love Hakim Warrick.

That's because I love Shawn Marion.

Why don't people say more about the fact that Dwyane Wade's name is spelled wrong? It's Dwayne, Dwyane. You know, I know, everyone in the world knows, so I think it's about time someone told your mama.

I'm out like Bradley Cooper doing his "girlfriend"'s Tae Bo videos.

Life is a series of lessons. While things like not bringing a freshly peeled hard-boiled egg onto a non-ventilated elevator may seem like common sense for some, they must be learned the hard way by others.


Dear lady wearing the purple scarf who got in on the 2nd floor yesterday:

I didn't fart in the elevator.

Blog of a Sex Offender

Did any of you hear about this story? This family was found bludgeoned to death with two of the youngest children missing, and then 7 weeks later, the little girl was found with a 42 year old convicted sex offender in a diner. The other little boy was believed to have been murdered.

So apparently the guy kept a blog. Here's a news article about the responses to his blog shortly after he was arrested.

I randomly found his blog and was reading it from the beginning because he described himself as a convicted sex offender, and his prose was lucid and intelligent. I found it riveting. It was an amazing glimpse into a person's psychology and his unique experience of life. I didn't find all the news articles and the "epilogue" of his story until I did a news search to try to figure out what the original crime was that he often alluded to.

It's amazing. There are posts on his blog that are incredibly noble and powerful, that makes you feel for human beings and worry about our society as a whole. And then as the blog progresses, he rants more and more about the injustice of society, with the posts in the months leading up to the end of the blog (right before the crime was discovered) being discordant with a heavy theme of desperation and a brooding rage.

Our society fails on so many levels, but seeing how everything unfolds, you get a strong sense that there really is no clear cut magic-wand solution. When you read his blog, you feel the desperation of a caged animal who feels ostracized and discriminated and then you see the tragic outcome of his angry retribution towards society directed at strangers. I'm horrified by his actions but I don't agree with posters who don't understand how something like his blog was allowed to be published. Suppressing expression isn't the answer. His blog gives us an amazing chance to see what happens inside a person who has valid points and opinions and feelings, and how a person gets pushed towards making the decisions he made. It doesn't all make sense, but the pain does. His pain is excruciatingly human.

Was it fair for someone who was desperate for rehabilitation and acceptance to suffer continual adn systematic police harassment? How does a person integrate himself into society if the stigma the powers that be force him to wear prevent him from forming healthy, intimate human relationships? Is the supposed high rate of recidivism high amongst sex offenders in part due to the public quality of their humiliation, limiting their ability to truly rehabilitate and reintegrate? Does our society create a cruel hypocrisy of desiring rehabilitation of our wounded factions, but turning a blind eye to or encouraging a police state that promotes the cruel breaking down of a wounded person's spirit? Did we fail an innocent family when our neglect of a wounded member of society spawned displaced mindset riddled with desperation and rage?

They say that how a person treats others is a reflection of how one treats himself. Groups such as countries have the same psychology. If the U.S. is officially the "policeman" of the world but more accurately, the "bully," then does that same cruel exterior/cowardly interior explain our love affair with fear and our mistreatment of our weakest parts? Sometimes I think the U.S. is a country that secretly hates itself because it never makes a wholehearted effort to soothe its internal rifts and integrate all of its pieces. You can cut off your hand because you don't like the way it looks, but by doing so, it doesn't cease to exist.

This whole story makes me feel frustrated and sad. It's not about sympathy for one person or another, or about blaming or judging. It's about compassion and awareness for the truth of life experience, and how there are a lot of things in this world that aren't fair and don't make any sense. I try really hard not to judge anything anymore. No one in this world really has enough facts about anything, unless it's something that happened to them personally. And even then you can only be sure of one perspective.

I think a person can pull into themselves and become selfish when they're trying to maintain their own boundaries. It's like that little kid who huddles under the blankets trying to squeeze himself into the tightest ball possible to give the monsters outside little to take. Sometimes you can get so afraid that whatever you put out there, someone will take from you so that you have very little left to save for yourself.

As the heart of Fall approaches, I'm dying to get creative. Fall is always the most creative time of year for me, the season where I sit in candelit rooms with the door open to the storms outside, listening to music, writing poetry or playing guitar. These are the times when I truly feel alive, where the world inside of me is as rich and complex as the world outside.

But here we are, with 90 degree heat outside, no rain clouds in sight, lots of crap on the radio and I can never seem to get a moment to myself to feel out what's going on in my own headspace. I don't know if other people are feeling the same way, and this is just a phase all of us are going through--what with all the natural disasters, the planes crashing, the terrorist bombings, etc., it just seems like the world is going through a rough patch. I hope it's just a phase. I haven't felt this desperate and lonely in a while, just praying for some equilibrium and that calm, steady feeling of overall well-being.

People can have trust issues when they find out that the people who were supposed to be their advisors or mentors growing up were mostly using them to serve ulterior motives. Now these people and their motives could have had harmless intentions, like parents who want to live vicariously through their kids with sports, music, academics, etc (I excluded the stage mom category as stage moms are basically insane). But as these kids grow up and realize that not everything they were told was necessarily in their best interest, they lose faith in the counsel of others and have no confidence in their ability to determine whose advice they can trust as having no personal or idealistic agenda.

My family is always giving me advice. I know for a fact that their advice is often tainted by ulterior motives and stained with manipulation, from how they use "advice" to manipulate my brother. While some of the advice is in his best interest, it is often in his "best interests" that are his best interests as subjectively viewed by someone else, not necessarily what will make him ultimately happy. Do we put our happiness in the hands of others when we ask them to advise us on what they believe will make us happy? Are we basically signing our happiness over to someone else out of fear of responsibility? What if that advice is tinged with ominous warnings that the decisions you make on your own will take you down a tragically unhappy path? Doesn't this tactic automatically weaken a person's confidence in making decisions for themselves?

Perhaps my problem is not that I don't see things clearly, but that I don't trust myself. I recognize the importance of other perspectives to help a person see their life journey clearly, and if I can't figure out which voices to heed and which to discard, then basically, aren't I just an idiot swimming in circles until I inevitably drown? I often feel like an aimless idiot.

What I would do for one long thunderstorm to quiet this place for just a second so I can retreat into my world and think.

Yesterday, Reggie was having a bad day so I took him to Father's Office for a beer and burger to cheer him up. The bar serves its baggie of fries in a miniature shopping cart about 7 inches high. I said, "Hey, do the shopping cart." He proceeded to do the shopping cart while pushing that little cart across the table, pantomiming putting the baby in the front seat, putting grocieries in the basket, having the cart roll away as he chased it, and my favorite, picking up the 20 lb. bag of dog food and trying to jam it under the basket. Of course, I've neglected my camera these days and didn't have enough juice left to capture the moment.

To recap the happenings of my life since I last abused Reggie with degrading photo shoots, we took a camping trip up to Sequoia National Forest, meeting up with RV Rampage. They were driving down from Yosemite in Day 2 of rampaging, and we were driving up for our 24 hours of Pansy Outdooring. We figured we would get up at 4am and hit Lake Isabella to fish. We got lost on what was supposed to be a 2 hour drive and ended up getting there sometime around 10am, only to find that there's been some killer algae in the water that's mysteriously killing fish, so even if we caught anything, we wouldn't be able to eat it. Now keep in mind, this was our 3rd get up at the buttcrack of dawn and go fishing trip, starting by an impulse buy of fishing rods. To date, over 70 hours logged, and we have yet to catch a single fish. I'm convinced that we're either really, really bad fisherpeople, or there are no fish in Southern California.

As night fell, we headed over to the camping site only to find that the RV Rampage had not arrived. We set up our tent but had counted on the RV to come bearing supplies, so by the time it was pitch black, we realized we would probably need to build a fire. We had to drive up the street to a grove to pick firewood in the dark. Driving back on the dark, deserted mountain road, I said to Reggie, wouldn't it be creepy if we were sitting here in silence and all of a sudden, we heard someone in the backseat say, "hello."

Creepy.

We drove down the hill, almost running out of gas, finally finding a general store that had no actual food outside of candy bars and chips. Miserable, we contemplated if it was possible the RV Rampage had suffered a terrible accident as they were hours late, and it was scary to think about because there was no cellphone reception up in the mountains so we had no way of checking to see if they were alright.

Luckily, by the time we got back, the RV had arrived. The kids told a harrowing tale of having their tire blown out by a jutting rock and a non-working bathroom, but honestly, there is no better feeling than being out in the woods, in front of a raging fire with good friends and wondering what else we can cook in a packet of foil.

Did anyone else see the previews for next week's Arrested Development and think that clip of Scott Baio as the lawyer Bob Loblaw was the most brilliant thing in years to hit television? If you don't know why that's funny, visualize Scott Baio in what looks like a Jacoby and Myers commercial saying (say it outloud with him), "Hi, I'm attorney Bob Loblaw."

Great article on Laveranues Coles and his announcement about being a survivor of sexual abuse.

Last night I had this dream that I went over to that Coffee Bean across from my office, except it was this really unique, social landmark type of cafe with a red exterior. They were going to tear it down to make way for some commercial developments, and people were protesting. I saw Coffee Bean guy and that overtalkative (and self-promoting) lawyer who's always there, as well as one other recurring character who I always see there. They had signs and I noticed how it was funny that even though everyone was chanting something, CB guy was just quietly holding up his sign because, you know, he doesn't talk in real life.

So I was there with my boyfriend and my brother, except my boyfriend was played by Brett, my cinematographer. I'm thinking, yeah, this place is cool and it would be great if they didn't tear it down, when we all look up and we see what looks like a spaceship amongst the dark storm clouds disappearing into the upper layers of the atmosphere. The crowd gets electric, like we can't believe what we just saw, and I remember thinking, I wish I had my camera. We were all just amazed that we saw this thing that we could tell our friends (and the tabloids) about. The thing looked like one of those helicopters with dual rotors up top and in the rear, but much larger and flatter on top (and without rotors). But then, before we could really process seeing that spacecraft, another one came down. I noted how fluid it moved, particularly laterally, not like a helicopter or any kind of craft we had. It came down above us and we all got scared. I remember thinking, this was a huge moment in human history...that I was experiencing an exact moment when we as a collective interacted with another type of being and this was an undeniably monumental piece of reality. It was huge, knowing that for a fact, there had been contact made and from this point forward, human history and existence would never be the same. But then this huge red beam came out of it and it was washing over people, shortcircuiting their hearts.

We all ran and I felt the most terrifying thing I have ever felt--the knowledge that I was going to die very soon, and that there was no way around it.

I managed to stop the dream but not wake up, and I spent the rest of my sleeptime going over the meaning the dream, even though I wasn't awake. I thought about it's important not to live in a large city as they are most susceptible to being targets of an attack. And that my brother was safe because he was in Fremont, and Fremont was a suburb. I made a mental note that I needed to move out of the city ASAP. I also thought about how my brother gets when he gets scared...he locks up and starts screaming and you can't reason with him. I realized that realistically, it would come down to a choice when an attack came down--of staying with him and dying, and of having to leave him behind.

When I finally woke up in the morning, I was pretty freaked out. The dream was so vivid and realistic, and most disturbing of all--rational in its "post dream" analysis of the dream's message, that it hung over me the rest of the day and I found myself lost in thought, thinking about it.

I'm not saying the dream means that we are in danger of an alien attack. But it did make me think of how sooner or later, we are going to have to be introduced to a world outside of our planet and make contact with other intelligent, sentient species, and as has been a theme in human history, there will be conflicts over dominance and a race to find which group has the better technology when it comes to warfare to dominate the other side into submission. There will need to be an ambassador who represents the world, and of course, the U.S. will want to play that part or be a large part of that group. I would not want anyone from the Bush administration representing us, with hidden agendas and a dominate first before being dominated. Why does our first instinct have to be one of suspicion and fear? That's why all these movies about aliens involve us being attack. I feel like if they attacked us, it'd be because we're scared assholes who did something first. If they're so much more advanced than us, I don't think they would care enough about us to attack us, just like we don't attack ant hills that we see in our backyards unless they're doing something intrusive or biting us. We really don't give a fuck about them.

In other news, a huge cockroach landed on me today, but it flew away as quickly as it landed.

DRunk Post!

So I'm here for the show. That last post wasn't supposed to post since I tried to save the draft when my coworker came to get me for breakfast, but I checked the blog and lo and behold,there it was. Sorry for the boring post. It wasn't finished.

The show has been non-eventful, other than many, many, many middle aged overweight men staring at my breasts as they walk by. It's very obvious and annoying, but I get the opportunity to pitch my company and product so maybe I can actually convert some sales out of it. It's a security show so it's mostly ex-military/law enforcement people and salesmen/computer programmers. For some reason, they act starved for the sight of women.

I was accused of being standoffish and non-involved in social activities outside of work when it came to coworkers, so I headed to Pleasure Island with them to spend "quality time." Pleasure Island is this area in Orlando that's like Disneyland for adults. The last time I heard a place described as Disneyland for adults, it was a sex club in downtown Los Angels, where I ran into this guy I went on 1 date with. Totally awkward. And yes, I declined a 2nd date with him because he smelled funny. And then, here he was at a sex club, having sex with some fat chick in public.

But I digress.

For ab0ut $21, you get access to a handful of bars and clubs, as well as outdoor stages and entertainment. My coworker had his kids with him so we hung out in the general area, walking around and playing carnival games (I won his daughter a stuffed shark shooting hoops). I checked out this club called 8 Trak that was a 70s/80s danceclub, but it was so overflowed with people from the show (i.e. middle aged midwestern people grooving on the dancefloor in birkenstock/white socks ensembles), that I had to leave; the place was prime for people watching but a visual trainwreck. We walked around but truth be told, there really weren't any good looking people or interesting enough things going on to not make us not want to get really drunk and go home. So I had my 3 Ketal One and RedBull and spent the rest of the night riding the Disneyland Shuttlebus, discussing with my playa coworker why he needs to be more of a player while he's single.

Hate the game, not the player.

I'm going to go surf Craigslist for weed now.

Fucking peace, y'all.

I'm currently in Orlando, staying at one of the Disneyworld resorts where everything down to my bar of soap has a picture of Mickey on it. I'm here for a security trade show for work, and am still waiting for my coworkers to get ready. I was told we were meeting at 8am, so I pulled myself up at the west-coast buttcrack of dawn and waited, and waited, and waited, and finally woke them up at 8:20. Man, could have slept in an extra hour.

On the cab ride over to our hotel, we had this 60 year old Italian driver who loved to talk. He told us that he had an ex-wife, a wife and a girlfriend. I told him, I bet it sucks if your wife and girlfriend don't get along. He said, if one of them don't like it, who cares. If two of them don't like it, you leave the city. If you got three women mad at you, you leave the country.


I met up with Muskrat and her husband One F last night and headed out to PF Chang's. The Asian Pear Mojitos are awesome. It looks like married life is treating them well and they're both a blast to be with. Sarah managed to bring up my junior high perm less than 10 times, and I'm proud of her for her restraint.

Timeline of Katrina Response

George W. Bush should be tried as a war criminal, as much for what he's done overseas, as what his carelessness and ineptitude have done to his own people.

(link courtesy of Nerd Island)

I had a whole commercial crew using my place as a location yesterday so that meant about 25 people in my place. But that also meant plenty of people for this Gemini to talk to, and of course, the conversation turned to our idiot president and his moronic responses in the media to Hurricane Katrina.

We had watched Cspan last Friday night when they showed the president touring the area and his press conference. My favorite was when he talked about New Orleans coming back to be a better city because (*smirk* *snicker*) he'd had a lot of fun in that city. "Sometimes too much fun," he ribs the guy behind him. Um...thousands of people have died and even more are homeless and devastated. The American people are terrified and angry and he's using a national press conference to make jokes about getting wasted in New Orleans? Good God, this is the president of the United States showing zero empathy or understanding of the grave situation. May I remind you, BILL CLINTON WOULD HAVE NEVER DONE THAT. And Bill Clinton would have flown in from wherever he was to visit the area and comfort the people as soon as he could. Not stay on vacation for 3 more days until his behavior became blatantly negligent.

So last night we're watching The Daily Show which had some great clips of Bush talking about the Hurricane including the video clip of the aforementioned press conference. [Here's the clip. Go to "Inarguable Failure"] Everything Bush says is so blase and shallow, it's like you going up to him and saying, hey, my wife died. She was my world, man...I don't know what I'm gonna do. And he slaps you on the back and says, "Shit, man, you know...uh...yeah...you'll find a better girl. As they say back in Houston where I'm from, the limbs of the pussy tree hang heavy." (*expression credit to Robert*) The man is not only socially inappropriate, but it's not a joke anymore. This man is dangerous to the American people. People are dying here and overseas because of him, and the rest of the world is losing respect for us quickly at best, and downright hostile to us at worst.

Alan, one of the guys with the shoot put it best: What he's doing is downright criminal. If we are willing to go through impeachment procedures because Clinton stuck a cigar up a fat chick's cooter, then why are we not impeaching Bush when he lied about why we went to war (what fucking weapons of mass destruction?) and resulted in the deaths of so many? Because by turning on him it will make us look bad to other countries? But if we admitted a mistake and as a people, impeached the person we hold responsible, wouldn't it make us look united and place the responsibility on the idiocy of one man and his administration? I feel like politically, that would have been a better strategy, rather than us staying in Iraq now because to pull out would be showing weakness in admitting that we had made a mistake. This needing to stand behind our country campaign they're umbrella-ing our support under is bullshit. Yes, we need to unite. Yes, we need to stand behind our country. But they're using this campaign as our need to stand behind our lying, thieving, negligent administration, and the biggest stance we could collectively make would be to admit that we the people made a mistake in electing this slob our leader (for TWO TERMS!) and that we are courageous and responsible enough to make things right.

Why is this man not impeached? I ask myself that every time I turn on the news and watch coverage of Katrina showing people sobbing over the family and homes they've lost. I ask myself that every time I read another report that more people (Americans and Iraqis) have been killed overseas. Natural disasters are inevitable and devastating. War is good for the economy. Blah blah blah blah. But overall, these don't change the fact that Bush is a dangerously inept and bungling "leader" (I use that term loosely and spitefully), and that our country and our relationship with the rest of the world are deteriorating at a frightening speed. We still have years to go before this administration wraps up and we can begin the recovery. Can his supporters and his Republican cronies in Congress really call themselves patriots and sleep at night knowing the devastation he's bringing upon this country? Shame on all of you.

In other news, here's a transcript of what the New Orleans mayor had to say. I really like this guy. He's a fighter and a leader.

And meanwhile in my home state...muuuuutherfucker.

They've made a film out of one of my favorite books, Shopgirl, by Steve Martin. The IMDB page says that Jimmy Fallon was supposed to play Jeremy but dropped out, which is a shame because he would have been perfect as Jeremy. Jason Swartzmann is a little too neurotic and dark, but who knows. I'm psyched to see it.

Celine on Larry King

Okay, the subject matter and sentiment I can feel and agree with; she makes some great points. I respect her passion and outrage. I do. I really appreciate that people are being outspoken because we need to be outraged and heard right now and it's powerful to see that this is affecting people and we're helping each other out. But that clip was uncomfortably borderline parody. She starts out like she could break into a Celine power ballad at any moment. Then there was, "Let them touch those things for once." And did she say helicobsters? Like lobsters with helicopter blades?

Wow, Kanye. Even though what you said is probably true, wish you hadn't sounded like such an idiot.

I know I get a lot of flack for it, but I've always liked Stephon.

Ann Rice on New Orleans

A moving and upsetting article in today's NY Times with an interview with my friend Cheryl, who had to evacuate New Orleans. Please donate money to the Red Cross.

For Survivors: Sorrow, Relief and Questions About Rescues

By MARC SANTORA and DAMIEN CAVE
Published: September 4, 2005

After a week of watching her city descend into chaos and despair - after seeing the unbelievable images of the city's poorest and most vulnerable citizens struggling to survive - Cheryl Bratt said she could not care less about what she may have left behind and lost.

Like others who have arrived in New York, Ms. Bratt, who left New Orleans hours before Hurricane Katrina hit, is simply struggling to make sense of why she was so fortunate while so many others were not.

"I have been crying for days," she said yesterday.

Ms. Bratt, 26, arrived in New Orleans four years ago as a Teach for America corps member and decided to stay after falling in love with the city and its people. She also developed strong ties with some of her students, many of them born into poverty.

Since reaching the comfort of her mother's home in Yorktown Heights in Westchester County, Ms. Bratt said, she has spent her waking hours trolling for information about friends and former students.

States across the country have been stepping up to announce their willingness to take in students and others displaced by the storm, and New York has joined them.
Gov. George E. Pataki announced yesterday that New York would welcome students in all grades and would also offer state-resident tuition rates at the state's colleges for displaced students.

Outside the public overtures, many New Yorkers are privately welcoming friends and family who have escaped from all parts of the Gulf Coast. But interviews with many evacuees from New Orleans suggest that their relief at being alive is tinged with a mix of guilt and confusion about why so many of their fellow citizens did not receive the help they needed to get out.
Jeffrey Presley, 27, who left New York on Aug. 10 to start law school at Tulane University, managed to flee New Orleans early. And while feeling relieved, he, too, struggled with the glaring disparity between those with the means to escape and those trapped in a living Bruegel painting.

He said that as he and a friend drove out of town, even before the storm hit, they thought about those left behind. On the radio they kept hearing the same message: Evacuate, evacuate, evacuate. It seemed like a command that few could possibly obey.

"We were sitting there and thinking that New Orleans is a city where most of the residents are reliant on public transportation," Mr. Presley said. "It was a sickening feeling thinking all these people are going to die unless they get them out."

Mr. Presley, who flew to New York last week after driving to Houston, said he still cannot make sense of the disaster.

"We all feel haunted by the entire situation," said Mr. Presley, who has already enrolled for classes at Brooklyn Law School and now lives in Williamsburg. "We were able to leave, and we worried about getting out and going to law school, but we're so much better off than so many other people."

At Tulane, Kimberly Cernak, 20, used to tutor low-income public school students. She said that during the flooding, poverty - as well as age and infirmity - became a dividing line in New Orleans.

"I've been thinking about those kids and their families and wishing there was some way I could know they're O.K.," said Ms. Cernak, who came to live with her grandparents in Staten Island and plans to complete her senior year at Columbia University, which is accepting some students displaced by the hurricane.

"It shows you there's a lot we still need to do as a country to make sure that in times like these everyone can get out," she said. "No matter how much money you have, no matter how many cars you have."

Ms. Cernak, who left New Orleans on Aug. 27, said it was difficult to begin the school year thinking about the chaos she left in her wake. "At this point," she said, "I can't wait for the flood waters to recede, but I have to finish my academic career."

She said she had called the local Red Cross in New York City to volunteer, but that she still felt a sense of helplessness. "It has been really frustrating and really overwhelming," she said.

Tom Thayer, 39, a partner in a French Quarter bar called d.b.a, said he left New Orleans before the storm only because he did not want to be without air-conditioning for a few days. Since the flooding, he has received cellphone text messages from friends who stayed behind. They described defending their homes with guns against looters, an image that continues to keep him awake at night.

"All I have dreamed about was these people being in boats, getting shot at," he said.

Mr. Thayer, who used to live in New York City and is staying at a friend's apartment on the Upper West Side, said that many of his employees were struggling musicians. The recovery effort, he said, would probably have been carried out better if the victims had not been poor.
Ms. Bratt agreed. "As a teacher, the motto is supposed to be 'Leave no child behind,' " she said. "We ended up leaving too many children behind."

She considers herself fortunate to be safe in New York, but Ms. Bratt says she cannot help but cry when she reads the text message sent to her yesterday morning by a former student from New Orleans, Quiana.

A 16-year-old, Quiana is now stranded in Baton Rouge and faces the prospect of leaving her mother to attend school in California, where her grandmother lives.

"All my uncles on my daddy's side are still there," Quiana wrote. "And nobody has heard from them."

This is a letter to the New York Times that my friend Cheryl sent in. She was the director of Teach for America in New Orleans, and was lucky enough to evacuate the city in time last week. Knowing Cheryl who's very vocal and pro-active, I have a feeling she had plenty more to say about the government's inefficiency and early incompetency in dealing with New Orleans:

To the Editor:

Re "Despair and Lawlessness Grip New Orleans as Thousands Remain Stranded in Squalor" (front page, Sept. 2):

As a now-former resident of New Orleans, given my evacuation, I am shocked by the destruction of Hurricane Katrina and appalled by our government's response to the disaster in my city. Despite the years of warnings given by Senator Mary L. Landrieu and others about this possibility, federal spending was continuously cut and threats of this destruction were ignored.

What I've read about only in third-world countries - hunger, rape, looting and death - is now happening in my former home, and I feel sick knowing there aren't enough people or resources to get this chaos under control because our government ignored the broken system for so long.
It is the good will of the millions of Americans who are currently donating money, resources and their own services that will save the people in New Orleans while our government twiddles its thumbs and literally leaves my neighbors behind.

Cheryl Bratt
Yorktown Heights, N.Y.
Sept. 2, 2005

*********

Has anyone heard anything about the government supposedly risking this catastrophe because if the land was deemed uninhabitable after a major catastrophe, they would be able to drill for oil in that area? I know there are always an abundance of conspiracy rumors and when it comes to money, nothing our government does surprises me, but I was wondering if anyone had any credible sources or links.

If anyone is looking for first person live updates of the situation in New Orleans, check out:

http://www.livejournal.com/users/interdictor/2005/09/02/

This is his interview with someone who is currently at the Convention Center. That situation is beyond belief. The whole situation is beyond belief. Please donate funds to the Red Cross.


From The Interdictor (9/1/05)

The Real News

The following is the result of an interview I just conducted via cell phone with a New Orleans citizen stranded at the Convention Center. I don't know what you're hearing in the mainstream media or in the press conferences from the city and state officials, but here is the truth:"Bigfoot" is a bar manager and DJ on Bourbon Street, and is a local personality and icon in the city. He is a lifelong resident of the city, born and raised. He rode out the storm itself in the Iberville Projects because he knew he would be above any flood waters. Here is his story as told to me moments ago. I took notes while he talked and then I asked some questions:

Three days ago, police and national guard troops told citizens to head toward the Crescent City Connection Bridge to await transportation out of the area. The citizens trekked over to the Convention Center and waited for the buses which they were told would take them to Houston or Alabama or somewhere else, out of this area.

It's been 3 days, and the buses have yet to appear.

Although obviously he has no exact count, he estimates more than 10,000 people are packed into and around and outside the convention center still waiting for the buses. They had no food, no water, and no medicine for the last three days, until today, when the National Guard drove over the bridge above them, and tossed out supplies over the side crashing down to the ground below. Much of the supplies were destroyed from the drop. Many people tried to catch the supplies to protect them before they hit the ground. Some offered to walk all the way around up the bridge and bring the supplies down, but any attempt to approach the police or national guard resulted in weapons being aimed at them.

There are many infants and elderly people among them, as well as many people who were injured jumping out of windows to escape flood water and the like -- all of them in dire straights. Any attempt to flag down police results in being told to get away at gunpoint. Hour after hour they watch buses pass by filled with people from other areas. Tensions are very high, and there has been at least one murder and several fights. 8 or 9 dead people have been stored in a freezer in the area, and 2 of these dead people are kids.

The people are so desperate that they're doing anything they can think of to impress the authorities enough to bring some buses. These things include standing in single file lines with the eldery in front, women and children next; sweeping up the area and cleaning the windows and anything else that would show the people are not barbarians.

The buses never stop.

Before the supplies were pitched off the bridge today, people had to break into buildings in the area to try to find food and water for their families. There was not enough. This spurred many families to break into cars to try to escape the city. There was no police response to the auto thefts until the mob reached the rich area -- Saulet Condos -- once they tried to get cars from there... well then the whole swat teams began showing up with rifles pointed. Snipers got on the roof and told people to get back.

He reports that the conditions are horrendous. Heat, mosquitoes and utter misery. The smell, he says, is "horrific."

He says it's the slowest mandatory evacuation ever, and he wants to know why they were told to go to the Convention Center area in the first place; furthermore, he reports that many of them with cell phones have contacts willing to come rescue them, but people are not being allowed through to pick them up.