Just got back in town...

...and this song is stuck in my head

Dear Chicago,
You'll never guess.
You know the girl you said I'd meet someday?
Well, I've got something to confess.
She picked me up on Friday.
Asked me if she reminded me of you.
I just laughed and lit a cigarette,
Said "that's impossible to do."
My life's gotten simple since.
And it fluctuates so much.
Happy and sad and back again.
I'm not crying out to much.
Think about you all the time.
It's strange and hard to deal.
Think about you lying there.
And those blankets lie so still.
Nothing breathes here in the cold.
Nothing moves or even smiles.
I've been thinking some of suicide.
But there's bars out here for miles.
Sorry about the every kiss.
Every kiss you wasted (bad / back)
I think the thing you said was true,
I'm going to die alone and sad.

The wind's feeling real these days.
Yeah, baby, it hurt's me some.
Never thought I'd feel so blue.
New York City, you're almost gone.
I think that I've fallen out of love,
I think I've fallen out of love . . . with you.

very important things to read

To change one's life: 1. Start immediately, 2. Do it flamboyantly, 3. No exceptions.
-William James

So scared of getting older
I'm only good at being young
So I play the numbers game
To find a way to say that life has just begun

Had a talk with my old man
Said "help me understand"
He said "turn sixty-eight
You renegotiate"

"Don't stop this train
Don't for a minute change the place you're in
And don't think I couldn't ever understand
I tried my hand
John, honestly we'll never stop this train"

-John Mayer (as pompous as he is, he writes some good stuff)

state.of.jefferson

Great song by the band Surrogate off the album popular mechanics, my new obsession. very telling and fits the californian mood...

I like the way California smells before a natural disaster, you can always tell when the fire’s coming. Prophets come down from the mountainside, check their breath and start screaming: “better watch your back, ‘cause the fire’s coming”
Nothing burns like a palm tree in the night. Nothing sells quite like sex by candlelight. It’s entertainment in the parlance of our times. We’re all going to float off into space, laughing the night away.
I like the stories that talk about the west coast of Nevada, I’m not sure what it takes to remove a state, but I’ll do some research. All of my friends know the end is near, watch for a pale horse and rider riding on a cloud towards the business center...

Far, far away; from those city lights...

I found myself longing for the places where I've come from today. Stuck in the wonder of LA traffic with the smoke from the fires in the hills wafting all over the Hollywood drivel driving their Hummers and Bentleys, I just really missed the Midwest. There's just a lot of artificial out here, a lot of fake, a lot of show- an entire city and culture that permeates the idea that the outsides, the facade are more important than what people are made of. The values seem to be the opposite of what I grew up with in the Midwest...and today was one of those days where I really missed it.

The other part is missing the people I grew up with- it's been so long since I've been home and seen them. And having had some drastic changes at 21, my minnesota peeps feel like another set of people I grew up with...another maturing experience I suppose.

Started class tonight, and man do I miss the ignorance of youth. That ignorance was power; it was grace; it was invincibility. Looking back on my college experience- I really wasn't ready; couldn't handle the responsibilities that success required, couldn't get my shit together. Now I feel like I missed an experience that so many others get to have...and today, I felt a little sorry for myself. But one thing was realized- when I was 18, I didn't know shit about shit. Now? At least I have some life experience. And getting older too... that's another story. Tomorrow is another day, and life, truly, is good. All a matter of perspective.

I miss the wilderness. Excited to get to Kentucky and Tennessee in the middle of this month.


Listening to Wilco on the way home, and this lyric struck home:

Deep in my heart
I'll know it's right
By the bed, by the light that you read by
By the time that I get home to say good night
I need to see you again
On the dark side my friend...

we're the heirs to a glimmering world

LA is on fire. That picture was taken by a friend of mine in Valley Village, out of the window in his house. It looks practically apocalyptic over here.

It weirds me out that no one here seems to react to this at all. Like, we went to the beach today, and 20 miles away thousands of acres of wilderness are on fire and spreading filth and ash all over the city. The sky is gray, even over here in Santa Monica- and everyone goes about their business. You'd think we'd be more concerned, right? But maybe not. I guess you get used to it. Worlds burning and ending- lives getting destroyed year after year- never thought this was something we'd get used to.

Saw the National last night at the Wiltern in LA. They tore it up, great show.

Some of my favorite lyrics:


Falling out of touch with all my
friends are somewhere getting wasted,
hope they're staying glued together,
I have arms for them.

-the national, green gloves

Odd theories

What if the reason America has gained so much weight is because we've cut down on smoking cigarettes? In the 20s-80s, people smoked like chimneys. Regardless of the health issues caused by smoking, people WERE skinnier, no denying that. So maybe all of the cigarettes were a sort of diet boon- I mean it's totally valid that cigarettes restrict appetite- that's why models, actors and actresses, dancers, etc smoke, right?

So light up, America. Save yourself 10 pounds.



Sarcasm, people, sarcasm.

Things I dislike

Just realized today how much I dislike shaving and wearing socks. I wish I had a more informative post, but that's it. Sorry.

the wire

so i'm writing a blog about "the wire" on my addicton blog (see it here) and I couldn't post this clip there. But this is probably my favorite scene from the whole series, or at least one of them. Check it out:

the lure of the road.

watchin anthony bourdain tonight visiting san francisco and filming his escapades, i felt a familiar draw to the road. there's a song by bright eyes, called "moab," that talks about the phenomenon- "washed under the black tar, buried 'neath my wheels...there's nothing that the road cannot heal." Not that there's much hurt here- but at the same time the draw is there, to explore, to venture out, to move on.

A couple of my friends are taking off to move to colorado just for an adventure; others still live in the town they grew up in and yet have traveled all over the world. for me, taking the leap to california was a great one and i don't regret it at all; however i do wish some days that i could just go off an travel and write about it. me, my bike, a journal and a laptop...there's a secret kind of freedom to that.

and yet so many things i don't want to leave. i guess it comes down to selfishness. that life is always there-- but some of the saddest people i know are the ones who left home and didn't come back. who struck out all alone and ended...all alone. and i don't want that either.

so...on with the adventure. the adventure of life; of bills, of rent, of dogs, of relationships, of jobs, etc. this IS growing up. as much as i want to fight it, i really do love it. just human nature to want to rebel i guess.

tomorrow is another day to live the adventure. the adventure in the small things. the little stuff we let slide by, i let slide by, in day to day life. gratitude. grateful. should be.

last 36

I spent 14 of the last 36 hours in the car going from LA to Marin to PHISH to Marin to LA. And what a wonderful trip. Haven't been to a major lot scene like that in a long time, and I always forget that Phish shows are a different ballgame. This was more mellow than I remember- didn't see anyone running through the lot screaming "I'm on drugs!!!" or anything. Bought my first lot shirt in 6 years- got an "it's all hood" hoodie from a Wharfrat (sober Deadhead) who was running a table. And what a good crowd- wound up seeing the show with like 10 people from Birmingham (including the Fierman kids, which was a riot) and my buddy from high school, Justin Past, who was on a vacation from Chicago. We spoke briefly when he was in LA, and then we both decided on Monday to meet up in Mountain View for the show.

Interesting fact- Google's headquarters is literally across the street from the amphitheater. I was kind of shocked to see that, but I guess if you get stuck writing code till 2 AM, at least you get to hear some live music.

Pictures to come on the next post.

You can buy a copy of the show here, and here's the set list for those who are interested:


SET ONE
Golgi Apparatus, Halley's Comet, Chalk Dust Torture, The Divided Sky, When the Circus Comes, Time Turns Elastic, Ya Mar, Stealing Time from the Faulty Plan, Suzy Greenberg, David Bowie

SET TWO
Backwards Down the Number Line, Down with Disease -> Ambient Jam -> Limb by Limb, Oh Sweet Nothin', Cities -> Maze, Mike's Song -> Simple -> Weekapaug Groove

ENCORE
Let Me Lie, Axis: Bold As Love

Less than 24 hours to Phish at Shoreline

First show since '03.

!!!

things that never should've happened, vol. 2

Scene:

A movie executive's office, sometime after "That Thing You Do" was filmed:

Agent: Ok, I have this great script. Steve Zahn is attached.

Movie Exec: Steve Zahn? Isn't the the guy who has killed every movie he's ever been in, including and not limited to "Saving Silverman," "Joy Ride," "Sahara," and "Strange Wilderness?" Isn't he a pox that insures box office failure?

Agent: Yeah, but it'll be different this time. I know it! 15 movies aren't enough proof!

Movie Exec: Ok done. Let's make "A Perfect Getaway." This will be the greatest movie ever!

And...scene.

things that never should've happened, vol. 1

Scene:

Black Eyed Peas song-writing lair, circa 2007.

will.i.am (member of the differently.abled.punctuation. hall of fame) stands and gasps, "I've got it!" and saunters up to giant white dry erase board.

and writes:

"my humps. my humps. my lovely lady lumps. my my humps. my humps my humps my humps."

Drops pen to floor, turns around with arms spread and a giant smile.

Applause. Fergie stands and yells "Genius!"

And...scene.

Lots of things I like

Can't sleep, late at night but not super tired. Neighbors stay up talking late and can hear them through the too-thin windows that don't quite close. I've been using the Ambiance app on my iPhone to get through most nights but tonight didn't quite cut it. So, since it's late, I'm just going to list some things that consistently make me happy.

wilco.

any sportscenter anchor calling a home run ball.

the last 30 seconds of Conan O'Brien's monologue.

differently.abled.punctuation.

russell and the sports guy's twitter feeds.

any biography. you could give me the biography of someone who spent 68 years doing nothing but eating grapes and I'd find it fascinating.

any blogs by people i like.

riding my bike next to the ocean.

Minnesota- all of it, the winter, the humidity, the friends, the family, it all makes sense to me.

the song "I'm Not Sleeping" by the counting crows.

seeing live music, and especially the thought of the phish festival over halloween.

Madison, but mostly the "mad city" shirt I own.

new friend requests on facebook.

anything from topo ranch.

walking zoe in the morning, coffee in hand with JP.

raaaaaaaaaaandy.

crappy 80s rom coms on cable on the weekend.

manny ramirez. I know he cheated. but he's so likable.

san francisco weekend mornings.

crisis. of any kind. as long as it's not mine. this rhymes. so did that- wait it's over.

the. cubs. in. first. place.

and their inevitable collapse.

the water- ocean, lakes, rivers, whatever. it's cathartic for me.

and you. thanks.

So, this idea kinda went awry

Well, I tried to start a good idea. Instead, I just missed writing, and with the Addiction Tomorrow blog I write, I've been able to exorcise some of my creative writing demons. However, instead of undertaking a project, I'm just going to use this to write. I got inspired by my friend Russell's blog to simply use this as a way to get some thoughts out of my head. So, off we go.

Sitting across the table in an eerie silence the couple sipped their wine. She talked, he feigned listening. This had been happening for years now. After 15 years of marriage it becomes normal, he thinks, to ignore about 2/3 of what his wife says. But this time feels different. The air in the restaurant crackels with the stillness of the conversation. Spinning in circles, waiting for his time to speak, the husband puruses the restaurant with his eyes, partial hidden by the wire framed glasses that she picked out for him. The next victim...where? Can he find her tonight?

Although victim may be to strong a word, he thinks- dating outside a marriage isn't a crime. Hell, she started it, he thinks. Six years ago, he walked in on a scene he can't help but replay but battles to forget- this woman, rambling on and on about curtains or something, caught ass up on his kitchen floor. He beat the shit out of that guy. Doesn't know his name, but sure as hell will remember the face. And that started the spiral- the incessant fighting, the therapy, the date nights, the staying together for one more day, one more week, one more month...and eventually, he got sick of it. She had guilt- he had anger. She had kids- he had affairs.

And off and on they went, the conversation spinning in different directions. Not tonight, he thinks. Tonight I will be engaging and inspiring with my wife. It only sharpens my wit in the world.

Day 2

And off we go. Day 2- my writing is definitely rusty, but it felt good to at least get some words down on paper. Off we go onto day 2.

Today's suggestion: Write about someone who is pretending to be someone or something that he is not. So here we go:

The lone drunk Scotsman at the bar looked at me as I walked in. It was a quiet, empty place at 11 AM on a Tuesday, the smell of cigarette smoke permeating every orifice in my body- I could hear the smoke being expelled from the lungs of patrons past. My tie was loose, and my hair soaked from the rainstorm raging outside. 11 AM on a Tuesday wasn't my usual time to patronize a place like this, but I had just told my boss to fuck off. In the world of studio films, this wasn't necessarily done. Especially since I had just approved a $235 million budget for a film that wasn't about to be made.

I was overseas, and had been videoconferenced in. My boss had just shut down the biggest project I'd ever greenlit- and I was furious. But that's not the biggest point. I'd been drinking heavily for months. I show up to work, I do my job, and I do my job well- better than probably all but 3 or 4 people in the world. I can recognize talent from a thousand miles away. I'd earned my studio over $4 billion in the projects I'd found and associate-produced in just under 2 years. A rising star, if you will. And married with two small kids. I was a miserable sack of shit masquerading as the most impressive man in the room. Obsessed with my outer appearance, success, family, happiness- I couldn't keep it all together.

Scotch helped. So did whiskey. So did vodka. Beer, not so much. LSD, not quite- made me a little crazy. Crystal meth made me clean incessantly but didn't do much for relaxation. The best combination was liquor and my wife's Xanax which I stole daily. I was out of my mind by 3 PM daily- and no one knew.

So now, overseas, alone and ashamed, I sought out my truth. I sought it in the bottom of a bottle, drowning me slowly and drowning me quickly at the same time. The Scotsman raised a glass to me as I ordered my second drink, seeking oblivion- the oblivion he obviously already had according to his blurry red eyes. Did I want to end up like him? Old, drunk and alone? The answer today is yes. Yes, I want to be drunk and alone. I don't want success, I don't want pressure, I don't want family. I want emptiness, sorrow and remorse. I'm LOVING misery. I want it. Give it to me, sweet vodka, sweet scotch. Empower my loneliness. Stroke my sorrow ego. Make me empty. Make me whole.

Day 1

Cracked open the book today- first page that's a suggestion says: "What are you waiting for? If not now, when?" And off we go. It's day 1, so if it's not perfect, give me a week or so to get back into the swing of things.

"What are you waiting for? If not now, when?" A good question- something valid at this point in my life I guess. I mean, I suppose this is really the perfect first entry in this book. But what if it wasn't? Is this something the editor pulled out of a large stack of notes that Monica put together, or did she come up with this and immediately say, "YES this must go first." My bet is is the first- maybe not even the editor, but Monica herself. Was this a project that she got stumped on? Did she have writer's block and then write a book about writer's block to remove her own writer's block? These are questions I must know the answers to. However I don't know the author, so I'll make up some answers that work for me.

My bet- Monica tore through her first novel (or two) with a bit of ease. The third one- a struggle, a battle of epic proportions. Frustratingly slow writing. Sadness. The smell of failure surrounding her like the scent of slightly old dog food- a damp, sad smell. But then, THEN came the idea- the idea to change to lives of MILLIONS of writers around the world. A BOOK! A book about writer's block and how to bust through it- not just a guide, but actual suggestions and ideas. Monica would empty her brain onto paper so WE, the other writers, the amateurs, the students, the random Starbucks-dwellers would have a guide and have Monica to thank. And thank her we did. "THANK YOU, MONICA!" rang the heavens, or at least the heavens in her brain...and yet here I am, writing her ideas. So Monica, I hope this was your vision. I hope that I can do you justice. And I hope, dear God I hope, that you can help me.

A new project

About 3 years ago, I picked up a copy of "The Pocket Muse: Ideas and Inspirations for Writing" by Monica Wood. It's been sitting on my shelf ever since, with nary a crack or a look through. This past week, I decided to take some suggestions, find some creativity and start a new project. The new idea was this- work daily on a writing practice (since originally, career-wise, I wanted to be a writer- when I was in second grade I won a Young Author's blue ribbon and I've had the bug ever since) and develop (hopefully) some good stories along the way. I'll also keep you posted on music and books that are keeping me inspired as well.

Monica, here's to ya, and here's hoping it goes well- or at least is interesting to someone besides me.