Becka On Tour

Nothing to see here

2012-01-23T11:02:00.002-05:00

Just a wish list. I won't call it a bucket list. Maybe I should call it a Happen List. Because it will...happen.

North Korea.
Antarctica.
Alaska (like Antarctica, but with less death and more recreation, but without penguins...i think).
El Camino de Santiago.
Transiberian Railway.
Gluttonous all-inclusive resort.

**While "Gluttonous" can be "Glutinous"...they are different words.

Super

2011-12-28T09:32:00.005-05:00

Here's the Super for today.

5,4,2,1

2011-12-01T10:55:00.001-05:00

When I was little, I thought there was a set amount of time that existed between closing your eyes, and falling asleep. As such, any opening of the eyes functioned like a reset button. Even as a child I loved sleep, because I can remember doing my damnedest to not open my eyes and "restart" the countdown.

Sometimes I still think this way.

Super

2011-11-23T13:06:00.001-05:00

I should post super phenomenal things on here (as if my below funeral preparations aren't super phenomenal...)

Here's your super phenomena today:

Post: post. Post.

2011-11-23T10:33:00.001-05:00

They say every little girl dreams about her wedding. And every bride wants her dream wedding. Well if my wedding day ever comes, mine is all planned out. But that's a big "if", not an eventuality.

More of an eventuality is your funeral. Well, your death for sure. If you die a bitter old hag with no friends, the funeral may not occur.

Let's assume I don't die a bitter old hag with no friends. Let's just assume I die bitter...

I'm not obsessed with death. It's not something I enjoy thinking about. If you think too much about it, you're liable to become religious... (side note, is that the appropriate use of "liable"? is this just some hillbilly phrase that really makes no sense?)

What I have spent time pondering, is my funeral.

One conundrum I have: Is the funeral for me, or for those in attendance? Should the funeral be planned according to my wishes, or what is most comforting to the "grievers"? I mean, I'm gone after all. They're still here; left with the heart wrenching sorrow of knowing they'll never get to see my cynical ass again...

I'm going to operate on the assumption that the funeral is for me.

Aurora, you are the current holder of my life insurance policy, so take note (although I've expressed most of this already).

Request one - The funeral should be open casket. Regardless of the condition of my body.

Exhibit A:
The funeral for the charred remains of Soviet Cosmonaut, Vladimir Komarov.

I think it helps with closure. People should at least be given the opportunity to see the body. If I died in a horrible accident, feel free to warn people before they enter the space. I do think we are all attracted to the macabre and grotesque and I have no problem with my last act being a grotesque freak show.

Request two - There should be booze and food present at the funeral.

Ideally, there will be rocks glasses, personalized with my name, dates, and perhaps my photo and a Mark Twain quote. My current favorite:

"Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn't do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines. Sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover."

These will be handed out as you enter the space. There should be a bartender serving Whiskey (Bourbon, Scotch, and Irish), coffee/espresso, and water.

There should be a grilled cheese sandwich station.

Request three - The bible will not be involved.

I have little to no respect for that book and want it in no way involved. If spirituality should be needed, Rumi should suffice.

Readings from Twain and Hunter S. Thompson would be nice.

Request four - Open mic.

Anyone who wishes to speak may. There should be someone running this show that starts things off with an off-colour story to make sure people feel comfortable saying whatever they wish. The only person they could possibly offend is my mother and a few uncles, and I hope they do. Though I'd rather my mother not be in attendance assuming she outlives me. I realize this could prove uncomfortable and difficult, so I won't insist she be forced out. I will insist she has nothing to do with the planning.

Request five - The space.

It should be obvious, I don't want this to happen in a church. Let's just go ahead and have it inside to avoid weather related problems. I can't think of a good location at the moment, so for now, I'll leave that up to the responsible parties when I kick off.

Request six - Attire.

I won't say that people shouldn't wear black, as some people just prefer to wear black regardless, but I would like to encourage people to dress...fun? Not party attire, not business attire. Not funeral or wedding attire. That one outfit that you always want to wear, but never seem to have the place? My funeral is that place. If that means a little black dress, do it. If that means that ape costume you got at a really good deal, but just never found the occasion, do it.

As for me? Well, make sure my hair and makeup are good. Maybe put a hat on me. I look good in hats. Just make sure I look good, and I look like me. Don't put me in some Amish frilly dress. And if I am just charred remains...you can definitely still put a hat on that.

Request seven - balloons.

I think this will be...cathartic? Whatever, I want balloons. As people are dismissed, they should be handed a balloon, printed with maybe my face? Or maybe just a few words, "Bye!" or "Thanks!" or "Poop!". And then everyone stands together and lets them go.

Is this good for the environment? No. But I do my part every day, give me this one time. And if you can find eco-friendly balloons, then go for it. But if not, I really don't care.

Request eight - There will be...more...booze

Obviously after the funeral, there will be a great drinking session. Please take care to make sure everyone gets home safely so that there are no funerals caused by my funeral.

Request nine - Cremation

Obviously I am following no order here. Make sure I'm cremated. Where do the ashes go? Well I have this romantic notion that my heart be cremated separately and given to my...husband? But really, that just puts too much pressure on a person to not move on, so don't do that (but feel free to write that into a book or movie...)

Back to the ashes.... Well, somebody take a trip somewhere that I haven't made it to yet, and scatter em somewhere. I don't care.

And now that I think about it, if there is a better use of my body, feel free to do that. Body farm, etc. Just make sure I'm not buried.

Request ten - Slideshow!

Yeah! Goddamn slideshow! All those damn pictures I take. Mostly of my travels, but feel free to throw in social pics as well. Run that through the whole service, might help jog people's memory for stories they want to share.

Request eleven - Music.

I have no ideas here really. A 21 banjo salute? I'm not even sure what that entails, but it might be nice during the balloon release.

I'm really perplexed by this, as obviously music should be a big part of this thing. Maybe I'll start working on a playlist for my funeral.

Well, eleven seems like a good stopping point. Perhaps I'll add more here. In the event of internet melt down, it may behoove some of you to print this out.

Thanks for reading!

9/11 thoughts

2011-09-14T10:36:00.001-04:00

So I addressed the "Where were you when" subject on my other blog. This is not that blog. This is the blog for sometimes offensive banter.

It makes me angry every time I hear someone say "I missed my bus that morning, God was really looking out for me." or "If I had stayed that extra minute to chat to my boss, it would have been me. God has a plan for me."

So, that leads to the logical conclusion that the person who caught the wrong bus and ended up at the World Trade Center at the wrong time, or switched flights and ended up on Flight 93, or maybe just checked their watch an extra time before crossing the street in Nebraska which placed them directly in line to be hit by a drunk driver; all of these people God has forsaken right? God has no plan for them, and really just doesn't give a shit. Or maybe they were all bad people?

Maybe that's it. All the people that narrowly escaped death are good people, and will go to cure cancer. And all the people that died were murderers and rapists.

Wait, that doesn't make sense does it?

Right, and God wasn't specially looking out for you. But hey, if that forces you to go be a better person and help others, more power to you, but if you choose to believe it's because God was looking out for you, be prepared to also accept that God purposefully knocked off that woman who only changed her flight so that she could spend the day with her husband on his birthday.

2011-08-11T15:10:00.000-04:00

"Who is that away up there in the sky climing like a bird in the morning" Ax Me No Questions asked the father.

"He was singing too happy," replied the father. "The songs came out of his neck and made him so light the balloons pulled him off his stilts."

"Will he ever come down again back to his own people?"

"Yes, his heart will get heavy when his songs are all gone. Then he will drop down to his stilts again."

2011-08-04T11:34:00.000-04:00

Having a failure day. Not a day of failing attempts, a day feeling like a failure. Like the total embodiment of a failure. Outside perspective would say I'm quite the winner, but outside perspective would take gas station attendants into account for comparison. These bad moods aren't the kind Chekov was talking about when he said sometimes it's nice to just coddle your bad mood and revel in it. These are the soul breaching moods. The moods that send those with suicidal tendencies to the brink. These are the moods that make me buy plane tickets.

I didn't do that.

I'm working on getting out of these moods when they come. Self improvement helps, but maybe on a small scale. I sure as hell am not working on my Statement of Purpose in this mood, that will just remind me that I'm a 30 year old going back to college with no work experience. PUSH IT DOWN. Not healthy right? Right.

So instead, I went to the grocery store and I bought some things to cook with. I used my credit card. I'm not supposed to do that. But sometimes rules have to be broken, or else necks get broken? Something gets broken, a dish maybe. A fingernail at least.

I bought healthy things. I also bought a box of Kraft Mac n Cheese, because you have to allow some bad with the good.

Well shit. That may be about the most profound statement today, and it involved Mac n Cheese.

- eavesdropping on convos

2011-07-20T16:24:00.000-04:00

"I'm getting ready for the millions coming to us. I'm working here handling millions for the government in preparation for the millions coming to us. I know it's coming. You had a good dream, mama had a good dream a month ago, I had a good dream about a month ago. It's coming...(pause)...See that was the devil that made the call drop. You say good things out loud, the devil just wants to shut you down. You know the devil made the call drop."

A Dating Rant.

2011-06-27T11:41:00.000-04:00

Gender Equality, not Gender Reversal.

I suppose I should state here, that the idea of Gender Equality, as far as I'm concerned, does not mean the genders are equal. It means, they get equal opportunities. What they do with those opportunities depends on their own and their gender based limitations/skills.

But that's not what this is about. There is also the idea, that women are equal to men, ie, women should be able to ask a man out, call a man, sleep with a man and not call/return a call.

This is all true. We are able to do that. But we shouldn't HAVE to.

There are too many men out there, that have become plain lazy, or just lost the cods to man up! They wait around like a pathetic high school girl in the 50's. Hoping the phone will ring. They've been so scared/scarred by feminists, they're afraid to ask a girl out, make a plan, or state their opinion.

Don't let the girls run you over men!!

Gender Equality, not Gender Reversal.

Dating is awkward, let's split the responsibility!

Movies

2011-06-08T12:00:00.001-04:00

Everything Must Go.

Will Farrell's comedic style is perfect for a snarky Dramedy. This movie, while it takes turns for the depressing, is well worth the price of admission.

Basic Plot: Man loses job, loses wife, falls off the wagon, lives on his lawn. Insert some neighbors, you've got a flick.

Cowboys and Aliens.

When I heard about this movie, I was quite frankly disgusted. However, after watching a preview, I'm sold. I think it's the perfect vehicle for Harrison Ford to make an old guy action flick. And I'm interested to see how Daniel Craig pulls off cowboy.

But then, if you don't feel like spending money, I'd recommend just watching Hunter Thompson videos on youtube...

2011-05-25T11:04:00.000-04:00

This a wok...or something. Apparently they were making Paella in it. Looked like fried rice to me.

Baking your Bits in an Easy-Bake Oven

2011-04-26T14:36:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I do fancy things like hire a car to the sauna, maybe get some laser treatment, go for a drive.

Do I think I'm better than you for this? Honestly; a little, yes.

Pride cometh before the fall.

I fall a lot.

This is one such story.

Last week I went to the sauna. They were having a special. Sauna entrance plus a sitz bath for 45$. I don't know what a sitz bath is, but it sounds like a soaking. I read the description, it says something about heat up to the navel. It also says it's good for...sore ovaries, sore testicles, and hemorrhoids (what the hell is the etymology of that word, it took 5 minutes to spell it properly). But on the list of benefits, the first thing mentioned was "muscular problems". Well, I had just been told by a doctorly type person that I needed to soak my leg. So, under the pretenses that this was a soaking situation up to the navel, I signed up even though I have no immediate problems with my testicles...

I go to the locker room and relax in the pool, do the dry cake sauna. I go sit in some of the other crystal chambers, and then head on to my "bath".

...

Two women take me upstairs to a room marked, "Sitz Bath #1". We enter into a small space where I see a leather chair. They ask me to take my pants off. Then they pull out this cloak...really, it was a shower curtain. Like a cross between a shower curtain and a barbers cape. So I pull that on up to my neck. When I first saw it, I thought, Sweet! Water bag! Because I've had this invention in my head for a while. I always want to nap in the bathtub, but it's not terribly comfortable and the water gets cold. My idea is to have a self-heating water type bag, that you put your whole body in and then you can take naps as though you were in the tub! You can imagine my dismay when I put this thing on and it was open at the bottom.

The chair.

You know those old "toilets". When we decided we needed to sit to toilet, rather than squat? So it was just a chair, with a hole, over a pot/bowl.

I submit these to jog your memory. I really like the second one:

But in my situation, the chair was much the shape of the first one, but covered in leather, with a leather lid. And the "pot" was attached to the underside of the chair. And was full of infrared bulbs.

No water.

No soaking.

Only baking.

One woman turns it on and asks me to wave my hand over it to see if it's too hot. Still unsure what was going on, I say it's fine.

Both ladies step up to help me with my...shower cloak. Lifting to make sure my bits can get full exposure to the oven.

I sit down and they hand me a magazine...well they tried. I asked them how I would read with my hands under the shower cloak.

As they're leaving, I sense my buns starting to burn and asked them just as they were leaving to turn the heat down.

And then I sat there for 30 minutes. I mean, damn, I paid for it, and a new experience is a new story, and a new reason for me to talk, and I can never have enough of that.

Afterwards one lady came back to help me dress...I was still too stunned to protest. And then back to the nude bathing area. I felt...dirty somehow. Like everyone was looking at me and thinking, "Look at her, she has sore testicles". I got over it.

I've now looked up what a sitz bath is. It seems it is meant to be a soaking, but only your bits.

So if your bits are abotherin' ya, get out yer washtup and set fer a piece.

Those progressive penguins...

2011-04-04T09:09:00.002-04:00

"Female penguins will trade sex for rocks". Heard that on the radio this morning. I mean, female humans trade sex for rocks all the time.

But let's look deeper...

After sexing up the male penguin, she steals his rocks. But this isn't her mate. This is her boo on the side. Or is it? So much for mating for life!!

Learning more, I realized this may be more of a dedicated pimp situation. It seems that the male is a one penguin man. But the female, she has to go out and work it to get some rocks. Now as far as I know, the rocks are used for the nest. And I seem to remember that the male penguin takes care of the babies, or at least helps a lot.

So maybe what we have here, is a stay at home dad / working mom situation. Well, "working girl" mom situation.

Pretty progressive those penguins.

Next thing we know, we'll find out they have gay penguins adopting children...

Nevruz @ the Lincoln Theatre

2011-03-29T12:55:00.021-04:00

I post this one just for placement purposes. Get in the vibe. And look at the eggs!

Take John Galliano melded with Alexander McQueen and you still won't get anything as fierce as these girls. I wish I had gotten video. It was so high fashion.

- knowledge is powered

2011-03-21T09:35:00.001-04:00

- what you need from todays Express.

2011-03-18T09:20:00.001-04:00

Movies to Watch Out For

2011-03-15T11:41:00.000-04:00

Beginners.

Ewan MacGregor
Christopher Plummer
Melanie Laurent
a cute dog
others.

Ewan buys a dog to make up for not having a girl when his parents had such a successful marriage. Then finds a girl. Then mom dies and finds out dad is gay.

Also, the dog has subtitles.

Definitely a cute dramedy.

Water for Elephants.

Robert Pattinson
Reese Witherspoon
Christopher Waltz
Hal Holbrook

Make a movie about the circus, and I'm going to watch it. At first glance, you may not be impressed by the cast, but Pattinson, while involved in shite vampire nonsense, is a quality actor. And Waltz? Come on!

Essentially, Holbrook recounts his tale of living in the circus and witnessing an awful disaster therein.

Russian Retrospective...not really

2011-03-09T14:16:00.001-05:00

So, going through this blog, I realized there was a lot of negativity towards Russia. And I was called out on that once.

The fact is, I love Russia. And I think if you ask a lot of people Why they love Russia, they will give you things that coincide with my rants. People that "love" Russia, love a challenge. The frail can't cut it. So you have to have a bit of a hard exterior to survive, to find humour, and to enjoy.

And I want to try to list the things that I love about Russia (what little I've come to be acquainted with), that I don't just love because it makes it challenging to live there or get on with it's peoples.

1) The architecture. Need I say more? Being in St. Petersburg is like being *inside* of a wedding cake. Ok, that's not quite right, because inside a wedding cake is spongy and dark. Ok, like being an ant in a bakery.

2) I love the light extremes in the North. 2 weeks of darkness in the winter, 2 weeks of daylight in the summer. It's thought that this directly influences the Russian personality. Cold at first, but once in their home, they'd give you anything.

3) Stroganoff. 'Nuff said.

4) Subversive literature.

5) A history of excellent film

I gotta say I'm stuck here. But I came up with more than I thought I would.

People often ask me if I would go back to Russia, and I immediately say yes. And often they respond with an incredulous "Why?!" burdened with only their preconceived thoughts, not my own.

Remnants of the Cold War? Maybe. I think they're just weak, or maybe just need a little horizon broadening.

***ADDENDUM
I recently had a Russian ask to read my blog. He found it thoroughly amusing. He reckons that if I am going to bother trying to live in the country and study the language, I must be...well crazy. But I must really like the place. Can't say the same for all the Russians, but I appreciate...his appreciation.

Some music you should be listening to:

2011-03-09T10:15:00.004-05:00

.

electronically driven, but not without lyrics:

Ghostland Observatory

Future Islands

AWOLNATION

intriguing vocals in a mellow setting:

Alexander

Dylan LeBlanc

soul throwback groups:

Eli "Paperboy" Reed & the True Loves

Fitz & the Tantrums

My Favorite Book

2011-03-09T09:40:00.000-05:00

Inspired by Shawn, I'm just posting pictures that make me happy today.

I want to make a mural of this book for my wall.

Gorgeous, Somber

2011-03-04T10:12:00.001-05:00

These are photos (obviously not taken by me) of Frank Gehry's building at 8 Spruce Street in New York. As usual, absolutely gorgeous, absolutely outside of the box.

But I can't help but be reminded of the torn, mangled remains of the World Trade Center.

Set Lists

2011-02-24T09:32:00.000-05:00

Do you know what they are? You may be in the minority.

Why do people insist on yelling songs at the band? Is the band yelling at you? I guess sometimes they are. Let's not get derailed on my annoyance at "Get your hands up!" "Somebody scream!" "What time is it?!"

Why are you yelling songs at the band? Does this look like a divey country western cover band? Most likely, if you paid more than 20 bucks for your tickets, you are dealing with some degree of professional entertainers. They most likely practice. They decide which songs are going to be best for the time constraints, current events, and crowd. You know what they do with those songs? They write them down...on a piece of paper...and tape it to the stage. It's called a set list. They are going to play what is on the set list.

Do they come to you your job and scream "TYPE THAT MEMO!!!" "TELECOOOONFERENCE!!!!" Actually, I'm sure they would if they had the chance.

.

People, places, and places.

2011-02-23T08:44:00.002-05:00

J. Roddy Walston & the Business opened for the Drive By Truckers the other evening.

Walston & the Business sounds like; Eddie Vedder covering Jerry Lee Lewis' catalogue. Walston claims friendship with Little Richard, and his influence shows. I'm not a fan of Eddie Vedder, but I am a fan of Lewis, that whole sound, and Walston's hair. It was a quality performance. And it reminded me of Nashville.

Which is the real subject matter here. Not Nashville so much, but the idea of being taken away by a song, a smell, a photo; to a place. And not just fondly remembering a vacation, but being pressed with an aching. An aching that most people feel for a lover, a best friend, a sibling; when they move away, or simply on.

I was working, monitoring the crowd, and grooving ever so slightly in the most professional manner I could muster under such rocking circumstances. When all the sudden I was overcome with grief. Perhaps that isn't the right word. A longing, a mild depression. I wanted to go to Nashville. I wanted to spend a Sunday morning, wandering the streets, popping into to bar after saloon, sipping whiskey and watching some talented, silver haired man play the ballads that made country, rockabilly, and rock famous.

It was like, someone had just told me that a long lost friend had just died, and we'd never been able to catch up. Now of course, Nashville is still there, but thats the feeling.

And while I was feeling this, I realized that I've never felt this way for a person. I've never really been capable of missing people. Yes, after a bad breakup, I miss having that person around, I may cry for days, beside myself. But the missing of people when you go away, or they go away, I don't experience that.

I get pangs of longing for Nashville; I yearn for New Orleans; I pine for Cambodia. Little corner shops and food carts hold more emotional weight for me than my best of friends.

Freud would blame my mother...so would I.

The Queen's ID

2011-01-20T17:00:00.001-05:00

So for the unaware, I'm a government contractor by day and a nightclub employee by night....

www.930.com

Not really a nightclub per se. It's a music venue. About 1200 capacity. Pretty rad place if do say so myself...which I do. We have a mezzanine, and a coffee bar, and food. And rad staff that pride themselves on not being "bouncers".

Favorite shows thusfar? Grinderman and Ghostland Observatory. Karl Denson's Tiny Universe was pretty solid as well.

But I'm checking in now to discuss IDs.

Last night (The B-52s) was the night for bizarre IDs. One guy, in his 50's left his ID in the limo, sad day. So he tried to use his friends. We do verify that you are carrying a valid ID if you want to drink in our establishment. The guy checking IDs just laughed and said, "Who is this?!" Then 5 minutes later, this guy decides that it'll be real funny to give our ID guy an expired ID, make him explain why he can't accept that, and then give him the new one. The customer really got a kick out of that. He was at the show by himself...

Then my rotation at IDs. I get an Australian Diplomat ID paired with a Department of State Drivers License. Had no clue they even issued those.

Then come the drag queens. I think they were surprised I gave them no trouble. One of the first things you learn is to check the nose, the brow bone, and the jawline. Those can't really change much. So the first guy comes through, I look at his license, he says, "It's me I swear!" I say, "I know, no matter how much makeup you put on it, it's still the same nose!" He says, "Did you hear that?! I'm getting plastic surgery!" Thankfully he was feigning offence...I hope. Next queen comes through. Tallllll. Huge hands. Terrible makeup. Why do they keep doing that gross lip liner!! Not an attractive queen at all...except. The drivers license photo. HOLY CRAP. I was a little fuh-klemped. HOT. Seriously. I can't get over how hot this guy was! I couldn't help but actually tell him what a good looking man he was. In the hopes that he takes the dress off, starts liking girls and takes me away? Well, one can hope...

Ghostland Observatory 12 December 10

2010-12-20T13:28:00.001-05:00

Wow. Wow. I was expecting a mind numbing DJ set. Wow.

Considering 80 percent of those in attendance were sporting glow-stick accessories. Necklace, bracelet, earrings, glasses. One girl had lights under her skirt. The opener, who shall remain nameless, mainly because I was so bored I can't be bothered to remember his name, was a dull DJ.

Because of my lack of interest in electronic music, I've never witnessed a laser show. So I can't compare this to anything. But I think it's fair to say that their laser show is a force to be reckoned with. It was like watching TRON sometimes. And other times, you were just sure that if you jumped, just a smidge too high, you would be eradicated by the beams.

There is a vocalist, with shrill tones, reminding me of Ima Robot. He sometimes picks up the guitar. His cohort, wearing a large red, white, and blue cape stood behind a drum kit and was surrounded by a number of keyed boxes and synthesizers.

Very entertaining. Only improvements would be, a proper opener and a proper audience.

Important matters such as this.

2010-12-12T09:44:00.001-05:00

I worked the George Clinton show last night. This is not about that. This is about more important things.

Got in about 4am. For some reason got up about 8am. Figured, I should eat something.

In Russia, they often eat simple open faced sandwiches. They're called buterbrodi. I had some salami and cheddar, figured I'd have a go at one that actually tasted good.

Step 1: Toast a slice of bread
Step 2: In one skillet, on low heat, warm up the salami.
Step 3: In another skillet, warm up some olive oil and garlic salt.
Step 4: Put the toast into warm oiled skillet and add the salami.
Step 5: Turn up the heat in the now empty skillet, to medium and drop a slice of thick cheddar in. Just for a second or two, slide out and flip and after a second or two, just when it starts to stretch, pull it out and lay it on the salami and bread. (BE CAREFUL!)
Step 6: Cover the skillet and let it warm together for a few minutes.
Step 7: EAT!!!!

Let me tell you, de-lish. For me the salami is key. The fat adds a dimension not found in other deli meats that really brings everything together.

New Years Calling Day!

2010-12-01T12:25:00.000-05:00

I came across an excellent old tradition today, New Years Calling Day.

I seem to recall that there is a tradition in Russia of visiting friends on New Years, bringing gifts, sharing food, etc.

This is similar, except it is more akin to courting. A gentleman will make up a list of ladies he would like to call on and drop by, have a bit of a snack, chat a bit and then leave his card. Mark Twain said that one New Years Calling Day he had about 30 ladies he planned to call on. However, he enjoyed so much spending time with the first young lady, he "postponed" the others until the next year. Of course he didn't actually, as he married this young lady soon after.

So maybe we should start this tradition again! What better way to start a New Year than with Speed Courting!!

A longer explanation.

A note on Fashion

2010-11-16T09:29:00.001-05:00

Nobody puked at the Kate Nash show! Score! I like her voice, but her genre's a fad and this style of dressing like a 4 year old has got to stop. It makes my job difficult. "I see you're drinking, are you over 21?" -- "Of course, I'm 37!" -- "Oh, it's just that you're dressed like a 4 year old going to her baptism. I'm sure you can understand my confusion."

Hack websites like Sartorialist are all about this fashion that I've termed "18th century homeless child". Everyone is dressing like they sell "papes" on the corner and work in the coal mines on the weekend. Sure, some parts of those outfits are neat, I like a jaunting cap, and reinforce those trouser knees! But haggard ass ugly shoes that you paid 70 bucks for, just to look like you're wearing jazz dance boots while working at a nursing home?!

Squirrel!!

2010-11-03T11:33:00.001-04:00

I can't say i'm thrilled with the way things are going. Are we going to just see-saw back and forth for the next century? Enact, repeal, enact, repeal. Do people really think we have some gung-ho gun slinger in office doing things no one wants?

Is the only way to combat this to yell louder than the next guy? To get some entertainer to corral people to another point of view by talking down to them? Except the speakers I'm referencing (Beck, Rush, etc) aren't talking down. I genuinely am starting to believe that they are talking on the level of their listeners. Their listeners are just lacking in intelligence. "Squirrel!" And I hate to say that, but its becoming increasingly obvious.

In discussions with apparent learned individuals, I come across basic facts, that they can't argue, they just were completely unaware of. And when confronted with these facts, they acknowledge them, and then move on in their same direction. If it doesn't back up their opinion, it must be irrelevant.

Are you aware that there is a whole world out there? People that do things differently, and they work!

So it seems in order to combat the blatant, raging ignorance that is so popular now, we must lower our projected intelligence, use smaller words, louder voices, and flashier lights. "Squirrel!"

"If you amplify everything, you hear nothing" -- John Stewart

How true. How true.

But what do we do? How do we get our point across to people who make decisions with their bodily humors?

Idiocracy is truly coming about. I am sad.

2010-11-01T11:23:00.002-04:00

The BBC seems to be age-matching now. Listening to a report on housing problems for the elderly in China. They dub over the Chinese ranters with sex matched pensioners. I shouldn't laugh, but it's like some sort of awful theatrical production.

Working on rally pictures.

And watched about 6 movies last week.

Soon to be updates.

a Movie.

2010-10-29T10:45:00.001-04:00

It's Kind of a Funny Story.

This is a cute movie. Zach Galifianakis does an excellent job in a serious role. Is this movie worth 10 bucks? No, but it's definitely worth a Netflix or a Red Box.

Jeremy Davies makes an appearance. For once on the other side of insanity, as an employee of a mental ward. He seems to be patterned after Bob Forrest, the substance abuse counselor and radio DJ. He's still Jeremy Davies. That man only has one personality, and I love it.

Jim Gaffigan, another comedian put into a serious role. Kind of a waste of talent on his part, but he does a fair enough job.

I'm a sucker for mental institutions, so I was going to love this movie anyway.

It's cute, it's not sappy. Watch it.

In other news....RALLIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Mavis Staples, Jeff Tweedy, The Roots.

Bringing the long zoom.

Feet Fetishists

2010-10-22T14:28:00.001-04:00

Twice. In a 24 hour period. Twice my feet were the object of sexual deviance.

First: I went to a bar. Often these stories start like this. I went to see an old-timey americana band. Quite good. The Hot Seats as well as Pokey LaFarge and The South City Three. Innocent enough endeavor. As I'm standing outside, the gentleman taking the money says, "You have pretty toes. Are you married?"

weird.

but not as weird as

Second. Yesterday evening. Metro. A miniature Spike Jones walks up. with the personality of Karl Childers or David Blaine. and the voice of Ben Stein. He asks how I am. I say, Fine, how are you? He says good. He looks away, I look away. I'm already weirded out by this fellow. He says, "Are those some sort of hiking sandals?" I say, "They're pretty tough." He says, "What size are they?" I laugh nervously and reply, "Large". He says, "About a 9 or a 10". another nervous laugh. I'm starting to think he wants to try my shoes on.
He says, dead-pan, completely seriously, very David Blaine-esque "Will you wiggle your toes for me?" ... ... ... ... yeah. I just said, "I don't think I need to do that."

WHAT?!?!

gross.

i got the first volume of The Autobiography of Mark Twain. It's huge.

i'm spending my weekend volunteering with an organization battling Modern Slavery, a shift at the Green festival, and helping to organize a volunteer appreciation party for a local neighborhood. yeah, i'm busy. oh yeah, i have an interview for a part time job somewhere in there too.

someone come clean my room before andy and kristin get here...

Dogs

2010-09-15T12:00:00.000-04:00

Dogs. I don't care for them. You know who I care less for? Dog owners.

On Sunday, a dog was shot at the festival I was working at. Piecing together stories, including some from eye witnesses, a foster parent of an abused pit bull was walking the dog down the street...WITHOUT A LEASH. Huge crowd, dogs everywhere, children. And you want to bring your abused pit in here without a muzzle, much less a leash? It attacked a smaller dog. It may or may not have turned on the cop. The dog is dead now, and it's the foster owners fault.

On a lighter note. I don't even have grass in front of my apartment to be protective of. But I walk past grassy lawns with nice signs saying, "No pets". I.e., don't let your pet defecate and urinate on our grass. At least twice a week I see someone letting their dog do their business within 3 feet of these signs. And often, it's a tenant of the apartment building! I realize there are not so many places to toilet your dog in the city. So how 'bout you don't get a dog? How 'bout you get a fish, a cat, a lizard, a bird. All manor of pets that are suitable for a concrete jungle. Or how 'bout you do a good self examination before getting this animal. Will you take the time to walk it the blocks and blocks needed to A) find a suitable toileting place. and B) give it the necessary exercise it needs? It's an animal!

With that said, here's a neat dog park:

Pooch Park

and a silly cat town

Don't lock yourself out on Rosh Hashanah

2010-09-10T11:55:00.003-04:00

I have nothing to say. :(

My job is boring. But easy.

My apartment is falling apart. But easy...to get to the metro.

Here's a funny story:

I locked myself out of my apartment. There is a separate lock on my bedroom...well there was. I locked my keys in my bedroom. From work, I emailed the landlord...a landlord. He gave me the number of another landlord who tried to jimmy the lock with no success. I called a locksmith. I made an appointment for 6pm.

I left work to stop by my roommates work to get a key to the front door. En route I received a phone call from the locksmith, CANCELLING. Why? Because it was a Jewish holiday. And in her words, "98% of locksmiths are jewish". Apparently she was unaware of this when I called her at 3pm.

So I called another company...which turned out to be a front for the first company. So I tried another one. He said they didn't do houses, so gave me another number. I asked if this person was Jewish. He said, "No, he's black". I'm sure there are black Jews. In fact, I think this guy was one. Because I called 3 times, and left 3 messages, and got no response.

So I go home, and try to open the door with my grocery card. No workie. I'm prepared now to sleep in the hallway, but I go downstairs to ask my neighbors if they know any locksmiths.

SIDEBAR: my neighbor is a barber shop called Spott's. "Spott" is actually Lloyd, and Lloyd has two wonky eyes. He is the nicest guy on the planet, but I'm not sure I trust his hair cutting skills. There is another guy that works there who always yells, "Hey neighbor!!" when I come home. They are outside 75% of the time.

So they are outside, and they say they don't know anybody and just then a guy walks out from another house and they yell, "Salmon! You know a locksmith?!" "Salmon" walks over and says no, but Lloyd's not gonna let him go that easy. Lloyd convinces him to try to get it open for me. So after trying to climb the back wall, and beating and prying, my door is now open...and there is a huge hole in my door jam...

And "Salmon"'s name is actually Sammer. We also cleared that up.

- where are you, me, them

2010-08-28T13:46:00.003-04:00

This will not be entertaining. This will be informative. A background is needed for future rants and/or raves.

I found an apartment. A block from a metro, the U street/Cardozo metro to be exact. To be more exact, the U street/African American Civil War Memorial /Cardozo metro. Although, I refer to it as U Street/Cardozo and the metro people say something like, "U Street/Cardozo, site of the African American Civil War Memorial." It's a statue at the top of the metro escalator, which is most likely not working.

It seems that at any given time 50 percent of the metro escalators are in fact stairs. No one seems to be working on the "stairs". Just trying to save money on electricity? No thanks for the convenience. Love you Mitch.

The apartment is old. It smells like paint and I think it's going to hold that smell. There is no living room. Just two bedrooms and a small kitchen. The building is old. It is surrounded by new apartment complexes. So a safe neighborhood I think. In my old building are two 2-bedroom apartments, a barber shop, a psychic, and what is soon to be a coffee shop. The building is owned by Ethiopians. I was hoping for an Ethiopian coffee shop, but they just want a regular one. Good luck with that. I'll give them some tips, maybe and make it a hip place. I'm also trying to convince them to open an Ethiopian restaurant in Asheville.

My landlords are a riot. They seem to do nothing but eat and drink. They took me to an Ethiopian restaurant. It was flat amazing. So, my apartment is not great, but I think it will work.

My roommate is a fiery Puerto Rican Buddhist Vegetarian in a PhD program to be a Sex Therapist. She wants everything in the apartment to match. The walls are white...

A map store closed the second week I got here. I bought a ton of maps. I will decorate my room amply. Except I can't get the pins in the walls. Maybe I'll just sit in my room and think about maps.

I have one futon and an extra futon mattress. So guests can sleep near the floor.

I found a table on Craigslist. Small, but solid. Carried it 6 blocks. My legs are varying shades of red and purple. I know what it feels like to be into S&M now.

I found a temp job. Most likely lasting about a month. It involves trying to organize a mans files. This man is in charge with contracting the work for the Wounded, Ill, and Injured programs. He is not organized and seems to be reluctant to let people help, yet wants me to work 40 hours a week. It should be...something. But I'll get the experience of reading government contracts. A resume gem for sure.

You have been adequately updated

2010-08-26T23:54:00.001-04:00

if you see me walking down the street with my hands on my hips, i'm neither angry, nor trying to be mod. i'm most likely on my way to an interview, after battling the metro, and i'm airing out my armpits. true story.

2010-05-23T14:49:00.003-04:00

on this day in history 11 men hid in a room out of fear for their lives. as they huddled there praying, a bird flew in and excreted fire on their heads. once their heads were inflamed, they did not scream, they began babbling in a new language.

allegedly.

squatters

2010-05-14T20:22:00.002-04:00

census has been fairly uneventful. today though. holy crap. definitely was chased by some dogs. i was sure i was going to die. i found an abandoned house and was walking around taking pictures. needless to say, it may not be so abandoned. two dogs come out of nowhere and gave chase. i couldn't remember if i was supposed to run or not run. grab a stick or not grab a stick. as i walked briskly and attempted to grab a stick, i almost tripped, so i decided it was, "not grab a stick". holy moly. holy moly. i've never been so scared in my life.

Meteor

2010-04-15T09:54:00.003-04:00

End times, end times. Aquarius is coming. What if the next messiah is a zombie! Oh wait, they all were, therefore any apocalypse is kind of a zombie apocalypse. Kind of a cool thought, but doesn't give me much to look forward to.

Video from Iowa I saw on NPR's site.

My dad is the worst roommate ever.

2010-04-07T08:31:00.003-04:00

My dad. God love him (further proof I need to leave the South. The day I say, "Bless his heart", I'm just going to end it all.) And everyone else does too.

The Teet had a buy 2 get 3 free special on deli meats and cheeses. I know I didn't need to actually buy 5 to get the discount, but I'm a fregan, and I had to. I come home around 8 and my dad is already in bed. I get up the next morning and the entire deli drawer is on the counter. Why? He apparently got out of bed, was so confused by the meat in the deli drawer, he put it on the counter for inspection...and then left it to rot?

It occurred to me today that if I don't open every single one of these deli items now, that when it comes time for him to open them, they will all be mangled and left ripped apart for the contents to stale and spoil.

A few weeks ago, I started putting the dirty silverware in a cup of soapy water on the back of the sink. Lets them soak, and keeps everyone from stabbing themselves when doing the dishes. And when I'd find that dad had put silverware in the sink, I'd put it in the cup. It's my thing not his, so I don't mind. Yesterday I made dinner and happened to be in the kitchen while he was making his plate. He got his silverware out of the dirty cup. For weeks now, apparently he has been using silverware from this cup.

No dad, the plastic storage containers are not meant to be used as dishes, nor are they meant to be used in the microwave. Sincerely, blistered round plastic container, and friends.

No, not all shoes fall apart as quickly as a 10 dollar pair from wal-mart. Example: ALL THE SHOES I"VE EVER BOUGHT YOU. And yes, they are better for your knees. So don't get mad when you force me to buy you new shoes.

Fill sink with hot soapy water. So far so good. Leave dishes in said water for THREE DAYS. Then wash them in THAT SAME WATER! No. no. NO. And if the rag you are using smells like a swamp, DON'T USE IT. And yes, you should wash the bottom of the dishes. "You don't eat off the bottom of the plate!" But it does sit on top of the eating side of the next plate! Also, you may not eat off the handle of the pot, but all the same, I'd prefer it not be covered in grease when I go to use it. Thanks.

My father is a bachelor. He does not care. I am well past the age of living at home, and will be moving shortly. But for now, my dad is the worst roommate ever.

Gifting Ideas

2010-03-30T17:51:00.003-04:00

Again with the hippie crap...

In addition to the Preserve Toothbrush Subscription, here's two gift ideas I use and plan to adhere to more strictly in the coming years.

Gifting Idea No. 1: Antique stores. Especially the ones with multiple booths run by different owners. Flea Markets work too, but I usually have better luck in the stores. These places are a wealth of neat gifts. They feel as if they're bulging with secrets. The only danger - coming out with more for you than the person for whom you were shopping. The idea here is that there is so much "stuff" just sitting around. Why buy something new, putting a strain on our already strained resources, when there's a really neat Jack Daniels whiskey cabinet for 40 bucks at the local shop? Take a Sunday and just wander through the isles, something is bound to jump at you!

Gifting Idea No. 2: Local Gift Certificates. Is there a local haunt you really enjoy and hope it can survive? Give them some new customers with gift certificates! This works great for the less personal gifts, Secret Santa's, White Elephants, co-workers birthday. And there's nothing wrong with giving them to your friends too! Especially if they come with some small item you picked up at the Antique Store!

It's easy to run to Wal-mart and buy some crap they may or may not need. But where's the fun in that?

In your future gift giving pursuits, have some fun!

Hippie Garbage

2010-03-21T12:40:00.005-04:00

A lot of "hippie" things have been weighing on my mind lately.

A big one has been a lesson we all learned in middle school science class:

"Matter can be neither created, nor destroyed."

If this is true, then we have all the resources we will ever have, right now. And I'm not talking about oil, water, etc. This is not an energy discussion. I'm talking about, well, everything.

Every time we throw something away, and it goes to a landfill, that bit of matter has been taken away from our total resources, most likely not to return, until we are so destitute that we actually go looking for things we need in the landfills. Oh, but it's biodegradable! So what? Those landfills are not being turned over. If the piles of garbage are not being turned over, there is no air getting to these potentially biodegradable items, and what you have is no better than the plastic garbage bag, but you did pay more for it!

Even those orange peels may not degrade for a long time, once stuffed under a pile of plastic.

So, compost! But you know what, even if you don't compost, throw your leftover food into your yard. And while you're at it, throw that biodegradable stuff out there too. Eventually, you'll get a pile big enough to warrant some fencing, and voila!, compost! Ok, it's not that easy, but it's certainly a start.

I stumbled across a website today offering recycled items. But actual useful stuff! Stuff we use and chuck in the garbage without thinking twice! Things like razors! The very words, Disposable Razors, should make you cringe a little. These guys even have a toothbrush subscription plan! No need to worry about when to replace your toothbrush, they'll mail you one when it's time!

But let's take this one step further. You buy it recycled, that's cool. But when you're done, you probably still throw it in the trash right? These guys give you free mailing labels to mail your stuff back! They even have information on recycling your brita filters!

These products will be expensive, right? NO! They aren't even trying to rip you off! It's amazing! Now we still gotta figure out what to do with the actual blades, but it's a start for sure.

Take a minute to check these guys out. It could mean the world, to everyone.

Seriously, think about what you're putting in the garbage, and where it's going.

http://www.preserveproducts.com/

Mostly Movies

2010-03-08T09:54:00.008-05:00

First: How does that worm get in that apple? Do worms have teeth? Gross.

Second: something funny that i've already forgotten

And third: Avatar at the Oscars. Note how, outside "Best Picture" and maybe you could count "Directing", it only got nominations for things related to it's technological advances. "Best Actor"? no nominations. Actress? No. Supporting roles? No. How about Writing? Of course not. Not even in the "Adapted" category...

What does this say? Avatar was a "pretty" movie. And when Kathy Bates mentioned the good "messages" it portrayed, the rednecks of America...who were watching the Oscars? not likely i guess...turned to their wife and said, "There was a message in that thang?!"

This all leaves me to wonder how Avatar could even be nominated for "Best Picture". I almost cried when it didn't take that award. Cried with Joy! And I can't help but think that Cameron had to cringe a little losing both that title and "Directing" to his ex-wife.

In other news: Alice was sufficient. I need a second viewing to set a real opinion. The 3d was used properly in my book. Alice's dresses were fantastic. I thought Depp's character was a little off-putting at times. Matt Lucas as the Tweedles did not disappoint. And Crispin Glover was able to use his inherent creepiness in a proper way. Helena, well she rarely disappoints. The White Queen was a bit too flitty for me. I understand wanting to be dramatic, but she failed at portraying it well. Overall, I'd say 4 out of 5.

How about The Fall? If you haven't seen this, watch it. It's fantastic. The little Romanian girl will steal your heart.

And I recently watched House of Wax (2005), House of Wax (1953), and Mystery at the Wax Museum (1933). Mystery at the Wax Museum was fantastic. I was not aware certain topics were even discussed in the 30's. Women's lib I suppose, but I wonder if this was a theatre release, or art-house. Either way, fantastic film. House of Wax (1953) was a bore. Sorry Vincent. House of Wax (2005), while hokey at times, as teen horror movies are, was a decent flick of the genre. The final scene was visually well pulled off. And Paris Hilton's dying scene was great, actually great.

Well, there you have it.

Awesome Russian Video

2010-02-28T14:38:00.002-05:00

This video is beyond explanation. The title loosely translates as, "I'm very happy you see, finally I'm returning home."

I thought this was the title of the song. Perhaps it is. This gentleman was not informed though. Unless this is just some sort of interpretive piece. I have a theory that he is gesturing at an "Iron Curtain" with love. Also that he may be under the influence of some of that psychic science they were working on over there.

Why bother talking about this. Watch the video. Your life will instantly improve.

2010-02-21T09:12:00.002-05:00

I live on a trafficked enough street. This morning I walked to the kitchen to indulge in a weakness and realized my purified water was in the car. Ask Alton Brown, if you love your coffee, you won't taint it with your tap water. I'm in my robe. But I figure, if the thing you are going for in your robe, is something necessary to start your morning, you shouldn't be required to get dressed. Maybe I worry too much. People in the 50's were always out in the lawn in their robe. But it seems now, or I just get the feeling, that someone would find it offensive. My drab, ill shaped, bleach-spotted robe. But like I said, I was going for something needed for my morning ritual.

When I stepped out on the stoop, I smelled, what was it, Life? I smelled life. Before I can see spring, I can smell it. And my friends, it is on the horizon, so close.

Water Pod

2010-02-19T18:44:00.003-05:00

I would like to design a Snuggie that holds water.

Who can afford a jacuzzi or their own pool? Who doesn't want a personal hot tub? A bathtub loses its temperature so quickly. Right as you start to slip into a consciousness not experienced since you were in utero, the temperature starts to drop. The time spent on filling the bathtub with hot water is roughly twice the amount of time you get to enjoy it. A shower holds its temperature, but how relaxed can you be while standing? I've been tempted to sit in a shower, but I know what comes off my feet in the shower, and I don't feel like sharing that with my butt.

Sometimes on a hot day, I'll go to wash my hands and find myself closing my eyes and pretending I'm in a cool, placid lake...until my fingers start to wrinkle.

So let's make a personal water pod. It would probably resemble more of a sack than an actual snuggie. It would have a temperature control. Just imagine sitting down to watch Drag Race in your own personal hot tub. Or maybe its hot outside, and you'd like to cool down, but who wants to drag their whale carcass to the public pool to splash around in children's urine? Just jump in your water pod!

If you've got some connections to get this thing going, let me know. In the meantime, I'm gonna go have a shower.

A dive into a bus.

2010-02-03T15:53:00.002-05:00

Someone asked me recently, why, if I was so depressed there, would I want to go back to Russia.

I think he was referring to my stating that I would have never made it through that time without my mp3 player. We had been watching Long Way Round, and I had commented that I don't know how they could have survived such an undertaking without music.

I explained to him, it wasn't a matter of depression. It was a matter of surviving in a new culture I was having difficulty coping with. A culture of seemingly complete disregard for your neighbor. (I say "seemingly", because I don't feel I spent enough time there to make a blanket statement.) By biggest tribulation, through my entire time in Russia, was transportation.

Transportation itself fascinates me. I love to take local transportation everywhere I go, every form of it. I like cars, buses, trains, boats...camels, elephants...you get the idea. I like learning the proper etiquette for hailing a taxi or a bus. Or for haggling for a ride on a back of a moped or a hitch-hike in foreign SUV.

I detest transportation in Russia. First of all, in a new land, you rely on the kindness of strangers to get yourself on the right bus. Don't expect to find any of that in this land. I can remember every single incident of a transportation worker being nice to me in the six months I was there. Even if I forgot a few, I would still have about 5 experiences of niceness. I think I've mentioned that some of us joked about making awards to give out to people being nice. It wouldn't have cost much.

So you have the issue of zero information, and zero help finding this information. Let's say though, you know the bus you want to get on and where to find this bus. You know what, let me just describe my daily routine:

In the dark, inevitably in the wet, I trudged to the bus stop. There is a crowd of people, but not too overwhelming. Until the bus comes. And then it seems that people come out of nowhere, climbing out of the sewer, materializing out of some sort of Soviet portal whose technology died with Stalin. It's unbelievable. And you'd be surprised, how many little old ladies are desperate to get somewhere at 7am. I tried to be civilized. I tried to wait in line. Who wants to start the morning off punching an old lady? Let me tell you what being civilized got me - waiting and missing the next 3 buses. In the event that I got on one of the smaller buses, after pushing my way onto one, I then had to hunch over at the waist, as it was really just a mini-van, and stand like that for the next 40 minutes. Or perhaps punch someone else for a seat. From this hunched position, I now became part of the money passing. Bus fares are passed up from the back and tickets and change returned (unless you are in Ukraine, where you pay when you get off the bus, hey Russia, how bout that?). While unconcerned for the welfare of their neighbor, excuse me, seemingly unconcerned, they seem terribly concerned for people trying to cheat the system. No one doesn't pay. I watched. I got by with it on the big buses, but not on a mini-bus. In the midst of this crush of wet, irritable people, you have to yell up to the driver where you want to get off. I of course prayed someone else would need the same stop and do it first. Otherwise, I risk sounding like an idiot and yelling something like, "Fish Fry on a See-Saw Please!"

So I needed my mp3 player, and I dare say, don't forget yours if you choose to venture to the Great White Planet.

Dream

2010-01-07T08:20:00.002-05:00

So I'm talking to this little boy at a baseball game. He's super cute and we're getting along famously as I do with little kids sometimes. He then let's slip that his uncle is Barack Obama and he is in the stadium somewhere. He likes me so much he calls him to come sit with us. So Obama and I start to converse. And then we're speaking in French, and then he says, "How's your Greek?" And I say I don't know any, so we switch to English.

Cut to a dark street. I have the hands of about 4 small children now and we're afraid. We walk to a warehouse. Inside we meet a new person. This person puts on some sort of glasses that allow them to see the near future of people (think the camera episode of the Twilight Zone). Now I am able to see from their point of view (my dreams often switch perspective). I look around and everyone looks fine. Then there is a flash around one of the kids, he turns black and white and has a terrified look on his face. We pan to me, same thing but a graphic vision of my death. I've seen enough.

So we continue walking down a dark street. And I look down, and Obama's nephew is gone. He had been holding my hand, but now the other 3 kids are there and one of them is holding my hand. I look behind me and Obama is walking up to me with 4 other children. I tell him that I've lost his nephew and he looks concerned, but as if he expected it. Clearly he's been briefed on a situation that I have not been privy to. As we walk another disappears. I come to realize that something supernatural is afoot and it's stealing children. We come to the end of this alley and there is a huge group of menacing looking adults standing near a loading dock. I come to realize not only are these the ones responsible for the disappearances, but some of these adults bear a striking resemblance to children we've lost. I come to realize that these adults are in fact spectral beings. The children are disappearing, aging and becoming part of this spectral army. Then one steps forward and with a snide look, asks Obama, "What are you going to do about her?" And as he says this, I see someone walking down the loading dock. Because of the angle, I can only see from the neck down. But I realize immediately, it's me. And he says, "I didn't bring this knife for no reason." And pulls out a machete, and then I wake up.

Avatar

2010-01-03T10:17:00.005-05:00

Avatar.

This movie is absolutely a visually stunning movie.

Unfortunately, the praise ends there. Had my ticket not been gifted to me, I might have asked for my money back. Avatar is the singularly worst big budget popular film I have been subjected to view. The first and most obvious annoyance being, they spent all this money to write a new language, develop new peoples, yet they used Papyrus font for the subtitles.

While discussing the film, one associate quipped, "It's like Ferngully in 3-d". I must add, however, that this associate liked Avatar. I'll also point out here, that 3-d loses it's interest after about 5 minutes. To appreciate it, you have to continually take your glasses off and desensitize yourself.

The acting was mostly atrocious. I spent most of my time trying to determine the ethnicity of the actors portraying the blue cat people. For no other reason than to test my ability to recognize variations in patterns even through computerized makeup.

The acting was basically on par with an episode of Battlestar Galactica. The plot however, well, that was on par with a b-movie from the 70's. Though I'm not sure I want to be that kind. The first action sequence is stolen right from Jurassic Park.

If you could think of the most generic plot about invading an otherwise peaceful people, throw in some love, and then...oh wait, don't bother thinking, Pocahontas was a true story.

Which brings me to the fact that this was basically a cheap propaganda film. Part of me wants to say, "Well, the message needs to be brought to the idiots that are attracted to shiny, colorful, aliens in 3-d". Because I do believe we should pay more attention to what nature has to tell us, and that, hey, maybe we shouldn't rape and pillage third world countries just because we can! But does this make an entertaining movie? Surely not. Especially if you're already on their side, especially if you have a higher standard for dialogue, especially if you aren't amused by the kind of drivel an imaginative 4th grader could spout out during story time.

A short tour through the charred and studded heart of Asheville.

2009-12-04T17:23:00.005-05:00

Asheville has a real way of making you feel inadequate. I just wanted to peruse the shops on Lexington, but I left with such a complex. Like there is no way that I could learn the correct way to wear pants tight enough to make eunuchs cry. How exactly does one spend 45 minutes on their hair and manage to make it look like they woke up behind a garbage dumpster....a garbage dumpster full of chic! They seem to have the coolest of social lives. House parties in abandoned houses. Warehouse parties...in abandoned warehouses. They don't really have to worry about taking up a stance on anything, the anti-trend will become known to them eventually and as soon as it's saturated they just have to be one of the first ones to go back to the trend. I imagine there's a large population of meat-eating republican gutter punks in Asheville right about now. Well, with my self image shattered I wandered up to the southern end of Lexington, where the shops are still kinda cute but run by middle aged people who've lived their fads and are content to actually have a cause and then host a potluck for it. Surprise, I actually bought something there. Without the pressure of not living up to the staff's standards, or maybe it was just that I didn't feel like paying 30 dollars for a plastic bag or 60 dollars for a necklace made out of tin cans and the souls of supposed greedheads, I was able to make a peaceful purchase.

I made my way over to Chai Pani near the Grove Arcade. Admittedly, I've never been to India, and as far as I'm concerned Indian food is curry, masala, paneer, etc. The things you can get on the buffet and that make up every standard menu I've seen in about 12 countries. Chai Pani has a menu full of things I've never heard of, apparently real Indian street food. In an effort to be less hoighty-toighty, Chai Pani has made itself basically a hipster lunch stop with zero atmosphere.

Additionally, every other item says it contains cilantro. Even when I ordered an item that did not mention cilantro, it came with cilantro chutney and a liberal covering of cilantro. This is not ok. This is gross negligence. This is not an ingredient you can just shove aside. It permeates every aspect of your meal. Now, to be fair, the guy behind the bar where I had chosen to sit, took it back and had them remake it without my even having to ask. He was well chatty. Nice sort of chap. But it didn't take long to realize he was still one of those Asheville holier-than-thous, just not in uniform. For one thing, I mention to him that Hendersonville is about to get a Middle Eastern cafe. (DID YOU HEAR THAT?!?! I'm so excited it's not even funny.) I mention that I've been looking for a place to get falafel, and he says he's interested in their hummus. He goes on to explain the various ways that hummus variants have failed him before. He finishes with, "I'm looking for a deft hand." I had to ask him to repeat that. Jesus man, it's just ground chickpeas. A deft hand? Your deft hand dumped a way more than a dash of salt in my "Indian lemonade" and it tastes like, well, you can imagine I'm sure. And shortly before I leave, I hear him mutter, not so quietly, "Amateur hour."

Give me a freaking break.

Ripping Guilt

2009-12-03T21:13:00.002-05:00

I find the Saw series disgusting. I find people who enjoy the saw series disgusting.

I've had a thing for Jack the Ripper for as long as I can remember. I find myself watching documentaries on other serial killers. I don't go out of my way mind you, but I'll definitely watch it if I catch it. What is the explanation for this seemingly outright hypocrisy?

I'm gonna go with Catholic guilt.

Logan's Run

2009-11-19T09:02:00.003-05:00

This is a stupid reason to log on but I'm compelled.

Logan's Run. No J, it is not about a long distance runner....for the 4th time.

Someone suggested I see this movie. Probably when I was watching Omega Man, which except for Charlton Heston's need to perpetually overact, is pretty good (though no competition for Soylent Green).

This is another film quite obviously inspired by We, a Russian novel by Evgeny Zamyatin. Odd that. Even Orwell and Huxley have admitted being inspired by this book. A book not available to Russians until some 20 years later.

This movie has quite possibly the worst special effects in history. Prime food for MST3K. The guns "shoot" magnesium, so a nice green explosion occurs every time they awkwardly discharge their guns. They are all terrible shots. And you can see the devices on the ground where the laser guns supposedly "hit". I can't go into all the absolutely terrible special effects.

The costumes though, well the girls anyway, are hot in a Space Babe sort of way. In fact there a lot of great costume ideas if anybody would ever actually get your reference. The men on the other hand, are pretty much dressed as the ambiguously gay duo.

However, maybe halfway to three-quarters through the movie, they reach this old man character who is a downright pleasure to watch. His simple yet predictably wise lines are beautifully entertaining.

So what am I saying. This movie is rough to get through if you think you're getting a quality classic. But it may be worth checking out for a good laugh and a genuine quality second half.

Climate changing zombies

2009-10-24T22:08:00.003-04:00

My mother just sent me a text asking for my address. Sent. Then clarified that she meant physical. Sent. I thought I was getting a present. Then she wants to clarify my social security number. Fearing she is using me as a tax shelter, I ask what she's doing. She says she's making me the beneficiary of my siblings' college funds. I reply, shouldn't that be guardian? She says, it's in case she and five siblings all die.

I reply, "I imagine if that occurred, it would be the apocalypse so I'll need that money to buy zombie fighting things" She replies, yes, and something about the Climate Change meetings in Copenhagen. Perhaps she has become concerned that climate change isn't actually a bunch of malarkey and maybe she should pay attention? But it still leaves me to wonder, does she think I have super human powers and will survive when they all die? Was my father secretly Superman or Richard Branson?

America, fuck yeah

2009-09-29T13:13:00.002-04:00

I was just reminded of something. While traveling recently, on multiple occasions, I was faced with people who were bothered by my referring to myself as American, or saying I was from America. It was usually a Canadian. My knee-jerk reaction was to shout, "Shut your flapping head". But I usually responded with, "With the stigma that now comes with the word American, do you really want to take those privileges?" Their argument is always that we are all part of North America. Well I'm not stopping you from calling yourself a North American. When I say I'm from America, no one gets confused. No one says, "Could you clarify? Are you from Mexico?" No one asks if I'm in fact Canadian when I say I'm American, or from America. Look, canucks. You are from North America and Canada. Mexicans (who have yet to complain to me about calling myself American) are from Mexico and North America. I am from North America, and the United States of America. That is TWO Americas. I get to say American. Shove off.

2009-09-26T22:56:00.001-04:00

Apparently there is a German, French, and also a Brazilian version of The Office. All, I believe, came before the American version.

Is Ricky Gervais a genius? Have we already reached the apex of idiocracy?

Call the Shrink, I love the weirdos.

2009-09-14T00:02:00.003-04:00

I feel like I should just say this. I love Russel Brand. Add that to my list of weirdos perhaps, but I love him. I acknowledge that he is strange, smarmy, and well, English. But I will marry him anyway. And sadly, this didn't start with this years VMAs. This years VMAs only exacerbated the problem.

The front man for All American Rejects is out of control good looking.

And Kanye West is short. Hot jawline. Perhaps was coked up this evening.

I feel like I'm disappointing someone with this year's VMA rundown, but I usually have a glass of scotch, so I'm not really in the mood.

2009-09-10T14:15:00.001-04:00

I have an appointment with a career/life counselor tomorrow named Gino Maccaroni. That is all.

Recent Photography Homework

2009-09-08T18:17:00.000-04:00

Boyd's son. Obviously. Roan.

Continued illumination with my mother.

2009-09-08T09:08:00.002-04:00

and then she said:

Have you ever been to a care center for the veterans? (I have) Do you know what the government is teaching our kids? (I do) Have you heard the pledges for Barack Obama???>??? (I have)

read just one letter according to a mom in St. Augustine. attached. If you are truly "open" you will hear the truth.

To which I replied:

Once again, it's a matter of holding the government accountable. Easy peasy. That's our job as Americans and we are failing miserably. Power can corrupt anyone and if we continue to sit on our laurels and not hold the government accountable, this will be worse than the failings of forced communism in Russia. Who has taken up the cause of the VA hospitals? Who is making sure the government makes it up to standards? And what is the government teaching our kids? I've heard no one but you concerned, so I'll assume it wouldn't bother me. I don't even know what pledges to Obama means. Girl scout pledges? And these one letter this, one letter that tactics are cheap. I don't care who's side you are on, one person's voice is not an argument for an entire nation.

This morning, I sent her a link to Obama's terror driven speech. She immediately texts me back that this is the changed speech and the original was outright communism. And that she heard them herself. I can't find these originals. If anyone can, please send them. I want to do my part to hold my government accountable. The funny thing is, I responded:

That's fine. It's pretty sad we have to sign a consent form to listen to the president. Sad indeed.

She responds:

It's pretty sad that we can't pray either.

Well, that's a first for me. I had no idea Obama came into our homes and stopped us praying. Came into our minds at school and stopped us praying. Is he burning the churches too?

I responded:

No one said you couldn't. I'm sorry you need state sanctioned time to pray. I don't, so I'll say one now.

For the win.

2009-09-07T13:42:00.003-04:00

Some pics given as gifts recently:

Swine flu boogie men.

2009-09-07T10:29:00.001-04:00

My mother sent me an email about how we're all going to die from the lack of testing on vaccine that no one really needs. Here was my retort:

Again, the American people have caused most of this. For the record, Washington State University has over 2000 cases. Don't tell me it's not spreading. Don't tell me it's not faster than bird flu. It is. Period. And just like the Hepatitis scare in Asheville a few years ago, it's not about how deadly it is to most people, its how deadly it is to the elderly, children, and the already infirmed. People are being requested, not required, to get shots to protect the elderly, children and already infirmed. With that said, will I be getting a shot? No. I've never gotten one, and I won't start now. Also, I'm sure you're aware that these flu shots have always had health risks. People have always died from them. The risk has always existed. THe vaccine need is heightened now because the American people, the British people, and perhaps others have refused to acknowledge all the reports that say swine flu isn't that big of a deal and they have screamed at their governments to get more vaccines. And really, the point of the vaccine is to protect the innocent from the idiots who would get sick and continue to go to work, school, etc and pass it. Unfortunately some people aren't idiots and still have to go to work because they can't afford child care, but that's another subject entirely. I won't be getting one, and I won't be spreading sickness that I do get. The government is actually doing it's job for the most part on this one. It's the drug companies that are the most liable for any scams or health concerns. Precisely why our health shouldn't be left up to men with only thoughts of their pockets, instead of a government meant to work for the people.

A few unscheduled stops

2009-09-04T11:58:00.011-04:00

I was at the bar the other night enjoying a Guinness. I thought I'd like to have a cigarette. I thought about purchasing some. Then I thought better of it. Less than a minute later I realized that the girl next to me that had just left, had left behind her full pack of cigarettes.

The next morning I went for a walk/jog. The walk was fine, but as soon as I started to jog, I felt a pull in my groin. (Unfortunately there has been no recent activity to account for this injury).

Clearly the Great Spirit wants me to smoke and never to run.

A dear friend gifted me a copy of Experimental Travel, a fantastic book of travel ideas that can be done anywhere. With this, and the environment, and boredom in mind, I decided to take the local bus into town yesterday. In a town this size, the public transportation was made to accommodate the poor, elderly poor, and mentally ill.

I planned to walk to the bus stop, about half a mile from my residence, but I seem to have pulled a muscle. But I was not deterred. I drove to the bus stop, conveniently located at the grocery. I ran in and got some snacks for my journey.

Bus arrives. I get in behind another woman. There are two people already on. One gets off soon. As we're driving down a busy road an hispanic woman waves down the bus. She is not at a stop, but the driver has a heart and stops a little ways down from her. She slowly, slowly makes her way to the bus. He tries to explain she isn't at a stop. She puts her child in the front seat and leaves her purse and tells him to wait a minute. She has left her stroller. The bus driver tries to tell her he can't wait, we're blocking traffic. The kid is getting nervous. I jump over and grab the kid to calm him down and she slowly, slowly walks back to get the stroller. Meanwhile we have to pull up and over. I start to think I may have just been gifted a small brown child. Finally she gets in and puts the stroller...in the middle of the isle. Knowing the lack of english this woman possessed, the driver looks at me imploringly. I dutifully get up and move the stroller into a seat. The lady makes no efforts to assist. I think at this point, she had decided I was a bus attendant.

Our next stop takes us to the community college where we pick up several people lacking the skills to possess a driver's license. The guy behind me keeps shouting directions to the bus driver. I think he may have been autistic or idiot savant, he was in the music program. Very polite, but the bus driver ignored him. Another guy, one of my class mates in high school, kept asking the driver about Michael Vick. He said, "He deserves a second chance. I mean he deserves a second chance. He deserves a second chance." Then about 5 minutes later repeated it. We got off together at the library. The driver looked at me and said, "You need to ride more often!" Maybe there's a position as bus attendant.

So I went to the library, did my business there and then headed up town. Ran into a friend at the coffee shop, did some more business (I'm a very busy person you know) and then he bought me lunch at a pizza joint. We sat on the sidewalk. The antique store across the street was playing the Duffy album. Another friend says, "What the hell is that noise?" I reply, "Duffy." She says, "What's a Duffy?" I reply, "That noise. She's very popular in the UK." My friend replies, "Oh", completely satisfied with the answer.

After sufficiently loitering at the pizza joint and entertaining a small hand full of passing friends, I headed back to the library to catch the bus home. Right on time. I get on and just a ways down the road another woman gets on with a stroller. She was rather vexed...as she was actually trying to get the stroller in the seat like a polite passenger. I gave her a hand. Just some padding to my bus attendant resume. I haven't paid yet, so I go into my wallet...to find no money. Assimilation complete. I'm sure people get on the bus all the time with no money, but I don't want to add to it. I start going through my camera bag hoping to find some change. I do! Rubles and Sterling. Crap. So I show it to the bus driver and say, "I must have grabbed the wrong money this morning." Like that's a normal thing to do. Oops! Must have grabbed change out of the Yen jar this morning! I tell him I'll pay double next time, and he offers to pay my way if I'll give him some of that change. So I paid my fare in Rubles and Sterling. Probably ended up paying about 3 bucks for a .75 ride, but it's not like I can use that coin anytime soon.

I'm gonna try to walk to the bus stop today and make it to the Apple festival.

Try something new today! Just taking a different mode of transport gives you a new view on your known world.

Softball? What?

2009-08-27T08:51:00.003-04:00

I wish I had photos for this. Yesterday, the woman who owns the hotel near where I live, left me a voicemail about emergency entrance into her daughter's softball team. The next voicemail was my father...calling to tell me this woman would call. ...Then another one from the daughter asking me again to play.

So I returned a couple of those calls and stated my ineptitude. I told them I hadn't played anything since middle school gym class. They took me anyway. (later the daughter still asked what sport I played in High School...uh spite?, is that a sport?)

They told me to wear a green shirt. I only have one. It says, "Say No to Luxury Condos." I'm not even sure this is an issue on which I have a solid opinion. It was a free shirt. It was a perfect shirt. The team I was playing with was made up mostly of Cliff's Developments people. Oh the irony.

So they put me in as catcher. In this position, my ineptitude should only affect my own ego, and not so much the direction of the game.

I am covered in bruises. My catch to drop/no-where-near-the-ball ratio was about 1-8. Got hit in the junk...rather the pubic bone. Got hit in the throat. And my legs look like I have the bubonic plague. My muscles are not used to this kind of use...abuse?. And my wrist looks like somebody hit it with a baseball bat...oh right, I did.

I thought we were playing at six and then I'd be out by 7:30. I left around 11. It was a tournament. After the end of the second game, a very bored and put-out looking man walked up to me and handed me a trophy. 2nd place, what? I turned around and the rest of the team was as shocked as I was. That was all worth it. They had been looking the other way and all turned and just stopped...and then laughed.

We went for beers, of course taking the trophy in. I overheard one guy telling his table, "They just won a big softball tournament. That girl in the bandanna is hot, she plays catcher." HA!

Also I went to Hairspray(lesbian bar) last weekend. I did not want to go, and I did not terribly enjoy it. But taking my presence into account, and my recent softball activity, I'm concerned I may have caught the gay. Well, whatever, things were getting boring around here anyway.

Goals are important

2009-08-24T14:04:00.002-04:00

A Canadian friend of mine recently moved to Atlanta to work as a web something-or-other at a company that makes slot machines. He has to make five goals for the year that somehow concern his job. I thought I'd give him a hand.

Goal 1- Improve water cooler chat

Goal 2 - Become compulsive gambler so as to better understand end customer

Goal 3 - Stop having syrup for breakfast so as to avoid having to replace keyboard every month due to stickiness

Goal 4 - Affect "Pimp Limp" so as to better fit into new surroundings and therefore be happier and more productive

Goal 5 - Read Zombies for Zombies so that after the inevitable Zombie Apocalypse you will be able to easily adjust to new cravings and lost appendages and continue to be a productive employee.

If you run into a similar problem, I'll be happy to help you make new goals.

Sandwich Love.

2009-08-22T13:34:00.002-04:00

I love a sandwich. L-o-v-e. Usually I have to make my own for maximum pleasure...I'll revisit that with my counselor later... But occasionally I'll let someone else make me a sandwich. Stopped by Negozio's today. That place is pretty great. Everyone is so pleasant, and the sandwiches are excellent.

Here's my conundrum with sandwiches in general: Do you ever get about halfway through an excellent sandwich, and find the ingredients moving around, rendering it so that different bites have distinct tastes? I mean, each bite is probably good, but some are excellent. So you find yourself at the end of the sandwich, with maybe 2 or 3 bites left, and you stare at it, study it. You must find which section of that bit of sandwich will offer you the maximum enjoyment as your last bite. I'm about 50% successful.

God I love sandwiches.

Movie update

2009-08-21T08:09:00.005-04:00

In Russia, I caught few new movies. I got the .99 movies on iTunes and they were either really old or really odd, and not good odd. Since I came home I saw Bruno, no comment. Finally caught Juno, enjoyable? And some other movie that I can't remember, so maybe it wasn't so good.

Just caught Away We Go. Unfortunately, it may be too late to catch in theatres, but rent it, add it to your Netflix. Yeah, it's your cutester, hipster, everything is too real film; a genre unfortunately already blase. But this film is great. All the way through...until the end. And not the ending, literally the last line was terrible.

I like realistic film. I like all kinds of film actually. Of course sometimes I like to believe that these stories could happen in real life. But at the same time, we don't watch movies to watch real life. (or maybe we do. does this have something to do with our laziness? we don't walk anymore so we don't see real life, and so have to waste 10 bucks at the theatre to see what life is like? this is another blog all together.) There has to be some disconnect. Either make the ending absurdly horrific, or absurdly great. This movie ended exactly as it would in real life. In fact, there is more disconnect between reality and hollywood throughout the rest of the movie.

Regardless. This movie is full of gem one-liners. Which is perhaps also becoming a blase genre, but it's not yet, so watch this film. Plus John Krasinksi is mucho attractivo with a beard.

I saw a preview for a movie called Adam. In this film, a guy with Aspergers, a fairly strong version of it from what I've seen, meets a girl. The movie seems to take the idea that many females have a habit of meeting men with problems and wanting to fix them, and it runs with it. But the guy and his asocial behavior seems to be the center of the film, so we can all laugh about our little social faux-pas' and look like asses because we're laughing at a guy with Autism. But it could be interesting.

I don't care for Quentin Tarentino. Deathproof was absolute shit. But I do like Brad Pitt. And I will see Inglourious Basterds simply to hear him say "Killin' Natzis" ten times.

Today at the Flat Rock Cinema starts, Cheri. This is some sort of Frenchish coming of age, both youth and menopausal, film that centers around some ladies of the night. This film stars Michelle Pfeiffer and...Kathy Bates. Well, regardless of not wanting to think of Kathy Bates as a courtesan, this could be an interesting film.

Mountain Deli

2009-08-04T15:00:00.000-04:00

Often these days I find myself wiling away the hours in the local coffee house. It's not comfortable. It's full of jaded youths and retirees trying to find their youth. I sit on a couch and look for employment ideas. I ponder things. I waste a lot of time. I get hungry.

Today, Kevin suggests I try Mountain Deli. A new place in town. Immediately I asked, "Do they serve pastrami?" I've been catching up on television since I got back, mostly the Travel Channel. They show more interesting food shows on the Travel Channel than on Food Network, which is great for me, because I travel through food a lot. Watching this channel is bad for my health though. I wake up in the middle of the night craving Chicken and Waffles, I make plans for a restaurant that sells only BBQ and milkshakes. This is the product of television and hedonism perhaps. Today, I was on a pastrami search.

Let's start with the name of this locale: Mountain Deli. Hmm. Could have been more creative perhaps, but I see where they're coming from...I think. Still, I would have been more creative. The tables have maps of the mountains on them. A nice idea. Overall a comfortable little place.

Now I went to this place with Pastrami in mind. But I realized, that nothing was going to live up to the visions of Katz Deli I'd been drooling over. With that in mind, and a craving for Prime Rib, I chose the day's special: Roast Beef with Horseradish Sauce. I inquired as to the availability of straight horseradish and was asked to taste the sauce to make sure it wasn't strong enough already. A fair question. I tasted, it was fine, but not quite the kick I was looking for. I asked for a bit of the straight stuff as well. A bit. What I got was a gross misunderstanding of either horseradish or the English language. When I got into the sandwich, the back of my head started to ache in a manner only caused by horseradish. Thankfully the sandwich came with some Au Jus, and perhaps inspired by some of the more daring Travel Channel shows, I persevered (strange word, per and severed). After a bit, you don't notice it anymore, an interesting thing about horseradish. The beef itself was delightful. Really tender and tasty. Was it worth 7 bucks? I'm not sure. Was the small/medium soda worth $1.75? I'm gonna have to say no. And the regular sized candy bars for sale at $1.25 is just absurd.

In my travels I run across a lot of places where there are separate prices for tourists and for locals. I didn't think it would come to that here, but it may have to. I can't imagine how this place will stay in business when the snowbirds leave.

I'll give this place another chance to make me a sandwich, but I'll take it to go so I can afford to have something to drink.

2009-07-29T08:48:00.000-04:00

Health care. Let me just say this:

It is the government's job to work for the people.

It is the insurance industry's job to work for their wallets.

It's just a matter of holding our government accountable, which as Americans we should be eager to do.

Oh, the congestion

2009-07-28T17:56:00.001-04:00

So I've been saying LA, and I've been saying LA. And I've been dreaming LA for years longer than I'm willing to admit. And when I finally have the chance to go...goddamn it if I didn't decide on a career path.

I'm clearly a little stunted in the whole life thing, as I still have a little of the "I can save the world" in me. Probably the lack of personal offspring. But it's more serious than just "can". It's a must. I know that I would feel guilty if I took that cush office job and didn't do something.

So I've decided to go into international development/child welfare. I hate the first term. That assumes that these societies are in a place that is unsatisfactory. All societies develop though, I just hope I don't become part of an organization that forces the develop. I think Lenin proved that was a bad idea.

Anyway, my point is, I want to work in the sphere of international aid. It seems the only way to do that in LA is to sit around trying to collect money from starlets.

I mean, obviously, best case scenario, I'm not even doing most of my work in this country, but I have to be based somewhere.

I've been holding out on Chicago. I love Chicago, and I've been saying that I want to settle there. It dawned on me this week, I'm not 18 anymore. I'm closer to 30 than I am 20, and while I don't need to "settle" per se, it's not a bad idea to head to a town that I love and that in general has more love to give than Los Angeles.

How can I have done so much and still feel like life is passing me by? I will never be able to die satisfied. I will never have seen enough. I will never have experienced enough. Maybe I should go ahead and make my bucket list so I'll have something to satisfy myself if I should, god forbid, make it to old age.

I'm starting with that ground up snake bone spread I saw on Travel Channel today.

Clown Showdown

2009-07-20T10:28:00.000-04:00

So I'm back. I'm sure you'd like some long diatribe about re-entering society, the joys and pains. Too bad.

In my home town there is a middle aged Hispanic guy named Jose. Ok, in reality there's probably 250, I'll be more specific. This particular Jose genuinely enjoys taking jobs involving standing on corners advertising goods and services. Mattress guy? Jose's all over that. Statue of Liberty tax guy? Jose can't get the crown on fast enough. He brings stuffed animals with him and puts on shows. He stands at one of the busiest intersections in town waving and running up to cars with kids to give a 15 second puppet show. Just now I saw him on the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop giving a very soulful performance on harmonica just for fun. Often he dresses as a clown. Actually, more often than not he dresses as a clown. A rather shabby clown, but a clown. He likes to perform anywhere they'll let him, schools, nursing homes, etc. He'd like to get paid, but will do it for free just for the sake of entertainment. Is Jose mentally ill? I really couldn't say. He's terribly nice. Perhaps he is what we should be evolving to. (I may have just suggested we evolve to be street performing clowns)

But that's not what I want to talk about.

Last week I was sitting in the same coffee shop and a shabby clown walked by. With balloons. But it was not Jose. I repeat, not Jose. What does that mean? It means, that in this tiny town of mostly retirees, sprinkled with jaded youths and Mexican immigrants, we have two men that enjoy dressing as clowns.

This impostor clown (I have to be loyal to Jose) walks at a very quick speed down the street menacingly shaking a balloon. I get the impression that he recognizes the competition. If he can give away more balloon animals than Jose can give harmonica/puppet show performances, he wins.

I can't possibly tell you how unnerving it is to come home after so long to find a potential clown showdown.

I have yet to see them interact. I believe I witnessed one give the other the cold shoulder. I'll keep you updated. This could have grave world importance.

KunstKamer

2009-07-01T11:14:00.001-04:00

Freaks. I like em. I mean, not in a sexual way. Not in a rude way. I just have a normal interest in the strange, absurd, etc. When I was in Thailand, I visited the freak museum there. Of course, that's not what it's called. I'm sure it's called, "Banawayathi's International Museum of Anatomical Anomalies and Shit". It had a lot of pictures of grotesque car accidents, murders, life size tsunami victim replicas, organs in jars, mummified criminals, two-headed babies, etc. The two headed babies were quite shocking. Hell it was all quite shocking.

It was no warning for what was to come in Pedro's Pavillion of Pickled Punks.

Peter the Great, Peter the First, Pedro. I like freaks. Probably only slightly more than the next guy. But Pedro. Pedro loved his freaks. But you know, if I was leader of half the known world, I'd probably collect freaks too.

Explanatory posters attempted to say that Peter collected these things to shed light on them, to keep people from believing in witchcraft, and kill ignorance. Bollocks. Some of the bottled freaks were actually labled as "Monster with two faces". Very PC.

I could not believe what I saw in this place. You had your run of the mill two headed babies. Of all sorts. Joined at the chest, at the head, at the butt. There were babies whose heads were so un-attached, that they were in essence a head with two faces, one on either side. There were at least 3 cyclops babies. And cyclopian animals. There were babies that didn't have lower limbs. Completely developed from the waste up, and some sort of Casper the Friendly Ghost bottom half. There was a baby covered in hair. Not like a werewolf, but it would have ended up like that if born. Some babies had growths coming out of their head described as either "brain hernias" or simply "skin growths", but I tell you, one had testicles growing from its forehead and at least two had penises growing from between their eyes.

Pedro bought a collection of things in jars from this guy Ruysch. Ruysch had babies, and baby parts in jars. But to keep them from "disturbing" people, he added bits of lace, and even bonnets. What? Yes. The museum said it was to keep from disturbing people, I'd say he was already very disturbed. Little feet in jars, with painted toenails and bit of lace tied to the end of the stump. A foetus in a jar, the lid of the jar decorated with flowers and seashells.

But let me tell you what was most unsettling. What was most unsettling, was that in each case was not only freaks in jars, not only two headed animals, but normal animals. So you have maybe a few two-headed babies, a baby with no legs, a baby with no brain, a hedgehog, and a hairy baby. Yeah. In the midst of these babies was a stuffed hedgehog. Just a normal everyday hedgehog. This decision was made in modern times. A museum curator put these displays together and decided that the kids needed a pet. In another case, above the jars of these tortured souls was a stuffed fish. A pike I believe. Every case had random animals. They say you aren't allowed to take pictures out of respect. Hey! How about you don't hang a stuffed lizard between me and my four-legged brother!

How to half-ass a major foreign city.

2009-07-01T10:19:00.000-04:00

How to half-ass a major foreign city.

Well, first you have to be completely goal-less. I mean, you want to have some sort of goal, or you won't even half-ass the city, but you can't actually care to achieve this goal. You have to have some feeling of necessity but not necessarily of wanting, i.e. motivation.

So let's say for example you want to visit something just out of town. First of all, don't put too much effort into finding out how to get there. Just get a general idea and head that direction. Now on your way, you may meet people who want to disturb your plan to only half-ass this. They may try to guide you all the way to your destination, thereby making it easier to get to said destination and enjoy it. Don't be rude, allow the help, but don't let it derail your plan.

So you've gotten to the destination, just for an example, let's use "Catherine's Palace". I mean, let's be honest, once you've seen a million gardens and fancy baroque buildings, the only thing to see is the Amber Room right? So for example, let's say you manage to arrive at this destination. You've almost completed a visit. That is not half-assing it. Never fear. There will surely be something to deter you. Hopefully you find that there is a line a mile long that doesn't seem to be moving. This will give you ample time to stand outside said building. Photograph some things, look like you're really put out that you can't get in, and then slyly make your exit.

You leave with enough pictures to say you've been there, but you didn't have to waste all day long!

Example two: Let's say there's a big church with a big tower. I don't know, let's call it Isaac's Cathedral. So here's an easy one. All churches look the same inside right? This one has one ticket for the church, and one for the tower. You need some excercise, and you'll get better pictures from the top anyway, so just buy a ticket for the tower! If there was an equation for half-assing something, this particular example would be textbook.

Example Three: Let's say there's a museum with four floors. Come on, four floors? Let's just say this museum is mostly about culture, and while you find it interesting, you may or may not be cultured out. You may or may not believe that the particular country you are in is the most apt at explaining other people's cultures. And hey! There's bottled freaks on the second floor! So you can say that technically you went to half the museum. Just because you only really looked in one room, who cares? If you've made it this far, you probably know everything else anyway...

Example Four. Let's say there's a complex of buildings/museums/etc. Just for ease of imagining, let's call it the Peter and Paul Fortress, which I like to call Petey Pablo. So again, this journey will probably take you at least an hour to get there. If along the way you can attempt to find something to eat and be deterred, Oh let's say 4 times due to lack of credit card machines at restaurants, and lack of change at the kiosks, you will be much more motivated to half-ass this site. Also, if the one part you actually really want to see is closed, even better. So here, you can easily take a picture of a wall or two and prove you did actually go.

I hope you've found this educational. It's not at all true to life...completely hypothetical.....

Cider

2009-06-28T05:21:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I have a few beers and watch TV. Big time interesting... Sometimes I record my thoughts during such occasions:

News channels get on my nerves in general. They get some bit of big news and they have to run it 24 hours a day. I didn’t realize this to its full effect until I came to Russia and the only English TV I have is BBC and CNN. Swine flu was bad enough. Now they have to kill the spirit of Michael Jackson by running nonsense nonstop. A tribute is one thing, but they are now running out of footage of fans, so they run footage of random asshats “moonwalking”.

I believe I just heard that in this recent Israeli/Palestinian conflict, 14 Israelis and 1400 Palestinians have been killed. Really? Wake up America. “God’s Chosen People” aren’t free from the rules of basic ethics.

Stackable car, foldable scooter, bicycle that stores energy for hills, i’m scared of robots, Shit!- who the hell is editing this crap? Flapping ornithopter is more interesting than stackable car? I need to be a journalist.

What is the evolutionary advantage to English people having such narrow jaws? Or is it just a product of inbreeding.

Jesus Christ Superstar was directed by Norman Jewison...

Just another lackluster look into my mind.

Unbelievable.

2009-06-26T03:27:00.000-04:00

I just wanted to see him dance one more time. Everyone knew it would be impossible for him to do the whole residency in London, but just one performance...it would have been legendary.

I hope this leaves his children in a better position. I hope he finally finds peace. I hope there is a real Never Never Land in the great beyond. Something so grand even he couldn't imagine it while on earth. More than anything, in all his loneliness and unhappiness, I hope he had some idea what an impact he had on peoples of every nation.

The world mourns now.

En route to Ukraine, and Odessa

2009-06-11T13:56:00.000-04:00

Excerpts from my journal:

Day one:
I feel like a real backpacker for the first time in a long time. My shoulders are aching, I'm sitting with the locals at the train station. I've got enough food for 3 days. And I have watered down "Multivitamin" i.e. European fruit punch. It's always called Multivitamin though. You can't really get this flavor combination in the states. Not to my knowledge anyway. Really, one sip and I'm back in France. Two sips and I'm in Germany. But now I'm on my way to Ukraine. At least I'm on my way to being on my way...

The platzkart. It's cheaper, but it was hot, no doors, and everyone in there was angry. For a short trip maybe. 35 hours? No thanks:

Day two:
I thought I wouldn't be able to do the Transiberian Rail by myself, but now I think maybe. People here have been so kind. Valeri-the ex philosophy student who soviet times, or maybe just family life forced to work on the train. Galina- She saw me in the hallway eating because the people in my cabin took up all the space and she found me an empty cabin to eat in. (in my journal I labeled her as Elena, later I realized Elena was another woman. I originally thought Galina was the name of the samovar. Everyone got a kick out of that) Even the big guy in the cafe. He knows I won't buy more than coffee, but when he saw me in the hallway eating, he demanded I come back to the cafe. When I didn't and he passed again-I was no longer eating-, he demanded again, saying it was cooler there.

Later that day:
I just spent 15 minutes taking pictures of people selling massive stuffed animals to the плацкарты, the people in the 3rd class train. I think if you bought one of these stuffed animals, you would have to buy another train ticket.

Before that I had a most delightful meal on the train with Veleri and his Любовница, mistress Elena. Сало(pure fat pieces), some sort of blood sausage with peices of meat, smoked pork, boiled potatoes, some excellent smoked fish, and a delightful cucumber tomato salad. Wait-excellent fish? Delightful cucumber? Oh yeah, and I liked the blood sausage too! Though I didn't eat what was obviously pig skin holding it together. Nor did I eat more than one bite of Сало. Then we had tea. Well Valeri had fresh milk. We talked about his wife, and his girlfriend, and his kids, and the fact that American's don't really carry documents. My brain started to bleed with all the Russian. Of course I didn't understand more than a quarter but I understood enough.

The Belarussian border was interesting. As I mentioned before there is a bit of strain on the relationship between the US and Belarus. For some reason they don't check you going in. But on the way out... Valeri later told me that as soon as border patrol got on, the first thing they said was, "Where is she." I'm fairly certain I was the only foreigner on the train, much less American. They definitely came to my cabin first. Two boys in fatigues start looking my passport over. Then a lady in a tight military skirt, shiny stockings...you know, think Hot Lips, but fuller figured. She's got a laptop set up on her like a guy selling hot dogs at the ballpark. She looks at the other people's documents quickly and then takes mine from the boys for a full inspection. I start to relax when she pulls the stamp out. She stamps it and hands it to the boys, there are now 3. She smiles, says something about "boys!" and walks away. Now these child service men are thoroughly inspecting my passport. But not with scrutiny so much as interest. I understand one say something about Turkey and I say Da. And then I understand them say something like "Maybe it's a similar word in English". And then Galina steps in (not the samovar) and says "She understands Russian". They look a little ashamed, like kids caught with the cookies, but continue perusing my passport. Then they are asking me how many states are in the US, etc. Pretty sure I'm the first, and possibly last American they will meet. Cute little conscripts. Wouldn't mind taking them to Odessa...

Odessa, Day one:
Arrived, met a Pole and a Cannuck. Had some Georgian food. Met an Aussie, S. African, and some Dutchies. Went to the beach. Saw some boobs, men in tiny bathing suits. Drank way too much.

Chess game at the beach:

Odessa, Day two: Massive hangover.
head to the train station to get a ticket to Kamyanets-Podilsky. She sells me something to somewhere else, but I can't be bothered to deal with that right now. To McDonald's, where I mistakenly order in Ukrainian...She confirms my order in Russian. The national language of Ukraine is Ukrainian, nearly all signage is in Ukrainian, but in the East, the first language is Russian. Back to the hostel to sleep and eat again. Really, maybe I should have just gotten up later. Not my style. Eventually begin the arduous process of getting a correct ticket that involves the Polish hostel owner, a Brazillian and a Ukrainian named Fight. Very seriously, very quietly, Fight gets to work and within an hour or so, everything is sorted.

Odessa, Day three: Respect your elders.
Headed to the opera house. Pictures.

Headed to Potemkin Steps. WHY? Perhaps there is some history there, but I just saw some steps. And this group of high school graduates dressed as french maids...with angel wings. Dead French Maids? Is this some sort of social commentary on graduating high school and entering the world?

Coffee, Borsch. Lovely.

Hallelujah, the sun comes out. Too late to get to the beach, so I head to a park bench to catch some sun. Where I was shortly berated by a crazy old man. I lay on a bench and within a few minutes, he sits on the bench near mine. Immediately, "Ах, такая красивая девушка, АХ, Такая, Красивая Девушка". (ah, what a pretty girl, AH! What a Pretty Girl!) and so on. He repeats this until I tell him in English that I don't speak Russian. He continues in the same vein and I'm pretty sure threw in some inappropriate suggestions. I ignored and continued to pretend I didn't understand anything. Then he's standing just next to my head. "Возми Веши!" (take your things!). My bag was under my legs, safe enough. But not for this guy. I said something like, Yeah yeah, everthing's fine, and closed my eyes again. And then he slapped me. Across the face and none too lightly. I had been half asleep and was quite shocked but the funny thing is I'd kind of been expecting it. I don't know why, but I'd had this thought of him hitting me when he was still sitting on the bench, but I have an overactive imagination and the thought was absurd...so I thought. I was so shocked, I didn't know what to do. In my half asleep state, I was considering beating the shit out of him. But then, he's just a crazy old man. He starts telling me he's leaving and to take my things, still in Russian. I say fine, go away. He doesn't, so unfortunately I had to. I couldn't exactly get in a fist fight with an old man. I took the oppurtunity to pack my things and then found another bench before taking the absolutely slowest taxi bus to the train station, barely making my train.

Some street musicians I saw on my way to the bus:

Where I found myself in a cabin with two young guys and fat man in his 50's who didn't care to wear a shirt. It was excrutiatingly hot though. I barely slept. At some point though, I woke up in the middle of the night to find that we had crossed the Arctic circle, and was now freezing.

A couple more shots for good measure.

I should go finish packing for my bus to Estonia.

Кошмар.

2009-05-21T07:54:00.000-04:00

If someone can find for me the Russian Bureaucracy Machine, or perhaps the Russian Bureaucracy Factory, or more likely the Russian Bureaucracy Hole, I will gladly go there, and give it all my money and credit cards, just to save some part of my sanity, and maybe a little chunk of time.

I awoke this morning to light streaming through my drab grey curtains. I awoke in fear, as it must have been at least 11 am. Nope, it’s just Russia. It was in fact 5:30 am and already the light was interfering with my sleep. White Nights, here I come....screaming... As I lay there contemplating what position to best return to sleep , it dawned on me: I’m about to get screwed all day and weekend, and not in a pleasant way. I’m reminded of Bam Margera in Jackass when he would say, “I’m Bam Margera, and I feel like kicking my dad’s ass all day.” I could see him standing at the end of my bed ready to pounce, I was a little turned on, but that's not for here. Even with this vision of getting my ass kicked all day, as I jumped out of bed to try to head off this fore-coming screwing, I had no idea what I was in for.

So let’s back up a bit. I’m going to the Ukraine. I wanted to take a train, I love trains. I haven’t done an overnight one in a while, and it’s high time. So I look up trains. This country is completely devoid of information. Especially in English. Even the mostly encompassing transport info webpage that exists in Russian is fairly new. One time I asked a train attendant where I could get a copy of the train routes, she shrugged and said maybe at a souvenir shop. Later I saw people with them, clearly supplied by the train system, but she seemed to have no idea of their existence. So I put some effort into finding a train to Ukraine. I realize in doing so that the one I want crosses Belarus. Sounds nice, a little trip through Minsk. Wrong. You must possess a visa. To CROSS the country. AT NIGHT. Cost? 100$. Also the US government has no relations with Belarus, whatever that means. On a grand scale, it means I can get fucked with and the US Government will really be of no help. So I decide on the longer route. I’m not sure why, but I convinced myself that this route did not go through Belarus. Whew! But on second thought, I decided I’d have a Russian friend check yesterday. She tells me she’s pretty certain this route does in fact go through the EXTAORDINARILY HIGH VISA ZONE. Well, fuck. I’ve already bought the ticket.

So this morning. First, I need to find a map that shows definitively that the route of my train will in fact cross Belarus. Also I need to eat. Also I need to try to make it to class. Worked through the logistics of all this and decided I would get off at a particular metro and go to a café I know has wireless. Of course I get there and my info was wrong, so to Macker’s it is, for a “Fresh Macmuffin”. Yep, my train does go through Belarus. Fuck. On to step two, Find the Belarussian Embassy. Well this came surprisingly easy, considering I’d already looked for info several times before. So off I go to catch the metro to the embassy, which surprisingly is located near my school! Things are looking up! Oh the traps we fall into in this country when tricked into positivity…

I get to the metro, which I had just used less than an hour ago. It’s closed. Are you freakin kidding me? They decided to do repairs from 715am-10am. Morning rush hour. I really think the government read Dilbert’s Guide to Management. So now I’m in a strange section of town, and have no idea how to get where I need to go. So I jump on the first Marshrutka I see that goes to a different metro. Take that metro to the one near school, and take a tram to the embassy. Conveniently the tram drops off right in front and the conductor didn’t even snarl when I asked for help! Blasted positivity trap…

Well I’m early, the embassy doesn’t open until 9. So I go on a search for money that I will surely need. Surprise surprise, I can’t find a damn ATM machine. Oh wait there’s one! Не Работает. Doesn’t work. So back to the embassy. He tells me I also need photos. Ok, well, little snag, but thankfully, I know exactly where I can get some taken nearby! Joy! And surely there’s a bankomat near there. Off I go. ...To find that the photo place doesn’t open FOR TWO HOURS! So here I start to have a meltdown. He quoted me 100 dollars because I was early and they could probably do it by Tuesday, but if I can’t get this shit done today it’ll be more. I have photos at home, that my alzheimered ass forgot, but as I calculated the time it would take to get there and back, it wasn’t worth it. So I had a mocha and filled out the application. I might add, the first good mocha I’ve had in this country. Perhaps the first good coffee product in general! Well, there’s not much I can do, except go find a bank. So I wander and wander and I find one, that isn’t open. It won’t be open for another 30 minutes, so I queue up with everyone else, there was about 20 people in line by the time it opened. I go inside to use the ATM, wanna guess? НЕ freakin РАБОТАЕТ! Yeah, it doesn’t work. Thankfully, I’m in no hurry at this point since the photo place still isn’t open, so I wander further and find a working ATM, glory glory hallelujah. Then to the photo place…to wait. Now I’ve been to this place before, so besides some communication problems, when it finally opened, all went smoothly.

Back to the embassy. The kind gentlemen that was there before has been replaced by a snotty young woman. She drily demands I fix errors in my application, demands my passport, etc. Then says I need my migration form. In order to be in this country, I have to have my passport, my visa (not attached to my passport), a migration form, and a registration form. I forgot one. But I have a copy! But that does not matter. She says she absolutely cannot do it. No way will she budge on this issue. I have to go home (1.5 hours), and come back (1.5 hours) with it to get this visa thing. So I said to her, what I’ve learned to be such an important phrase in Russian, Что ДелатЬ? And I stood there. This basically means, So what are we gonna do, or What Can I do? What is there to do. And then you wait. And they shrug, and you wait. And they shuffle papers, and you don’t move. And then someone else comes and they worry with them for a bit. And you wait. And they come back to you and act like the previous conversation never happened and start processing your paper work. Wait, what? What happened to "Absolutely not". It’s kind of surprising when things go like this. I read a book once called From Niet to Da, understanding the Russians. It explained how you often get noes, and how to turn them into yeses, but this method was never covered. It may be too Russian for the book. So she’s processing my papers, tells me it will cost 177$ because she isn’t confident it will be done by Tuesday, fair enough, that’s in the rules I read before. Though I can feel my wallet cringing. I get a receipt and go to the next window to pay.

Well at the bank, I hadn’t been able to take out as much as I wanted, but more than enough to cover the visa and so I bought some things on the way to the embassy while I was waiting. Yes, more than enough to cover 100$. So now I’m at the desk, and I don’t have enough money. Что Делать will not work here. I’ve already been around this place, I didn’t see an ATM. But they assure me there is one at this particular building nearby. So fine. I leave and am halfway there when I realize that the embassy closes for lunch in 15 minutes, and they have my passport and copy of my passport. So I begin to walk fast, because I never run unless it’s really an emergency, and well it hasn’t gotten to that yet. I go in one door, see no ATM, Security directs me to a different door. I go to that door, more security, they won’t even let me in. They direct me to a different door. I go to that door. No ATM, but they will let me take out money! with my passport…. And then I started to cry. That might have worked if I had less dignity. So I’m now in full speed walk. At the second door, I had seen ATM machines past security. They will let me in. And then as I’m on my way, I see a little ATM, hidden behind a corner. It even worked! So I take my money and continue the full speed walk to the embassy where I pay, give my receipt and she says to come back tomorrow for my visa. Fingers crossed!

With all this trouble, it’s a real shame that I can’t actually stop in Belarus.

Russian Mystery Fish on a Train

2009-05-19T12:43:00.000-04:00

That's a lot of cigarettes and pistachios for three people

So he turned up not drunk, but a bit battered. Apparently two sets of security had seen it fit to introduce his face to the sidewalk. Unfortunately, he's of no danger to anyone but himself and I'm sure just took it. He kept using the word "Fail". I had a "face fail" coming up quite often. While he turned up sober, we quickly commenced drinking, much to my silent protests of class in the morning. Beer, beer, yorsh. Yorsh? Aka "Russian Mystery Fish" Aka, you're getting drunk. Simply vodka and beer, but they insist on calling it a "Cocktail". Well, we made a merry evening of it and I headed back on the last metro. Hopefully his face survived the rest of the night!

Today was class. I made it to all of them, against all...yorsh. Fairly uninteresting as usual. Then I went to, duh duh duuuuuh, the Russian Train Station Ticket Office. Oh dear. The trials and tribulations of simply finding info on trains. And when you finally find it, it's not right. So I have procured a ticket to Odessa, Ukraine. I hope to God I have anyway. After communicating in my shoddy Russian at the info desk, and then waiting forever at the ticket desk, and communicating in shoddy Russian there, I have a ticket of some sort to somewhere on some day. I'll take this ticket to a Russian tomorrow for confirmation. Also, I pray to God that I did not book through Belarus, as they are not the biggest fans of Americans, and I will have to buy a Visa just to take the train through their country IN THE DARK! And it costs OVER 100 DOLLARS!

Did I mention this train will take 35 hours? It will. I'm so stoked. It's a little piece of a dream. The fact that the train is going the opposite way of my dream is no matter at this point.

One of the last things my friend on the left said before I left, "I'm starting feel afraid for my face"

Dog apparel as a weather vane.

2009-05-18T07:05:00.001-04:00

Chinese girl says she was surprised to see dogs wearing clothes here. To which our idiotic (can't work a DVD) blond teacher responds that it's cold here. To which the Swedish student says, it's cold in Sweden and our dogs don't wear clothes. To which the teacher responds, Then it's warmer there. Her argument was that because the dogs don't wear clothes, it's warmer in Sweden. I might add, it was delivered with quite the caustic look.

Monkey beer

2009-05-17T10:05:00.000-04:00

I took the above picture in Cambodia. You really need to click it to see it at full size to appreciate it. The monkey has one paw, in a fist, slamming on the beer can. The other is at his head as if pondering how it all came to this.

First I love this picture, second, it sums up my weekend! The canuck that had previously been shacked up in my apartment took leave on Friday. Not without much unnecessary drama. While I'm glad to be rid of said drama, it did leave me a little out of sorts if for no reason other than my apartment was now empty. So I watched a film on Saturday, Dogville. I could not possibly recommend this movie, except for people who like to watch fucked up shit poorly executed. Maybe I missed the point, but just because it's experimental doesn't make it cool hipsters. As the movie was 3 hours long, I took a nap halfway through, only to be awoken by the phone. It was a guy from Moscow I had met a few months ago. He was in town and wanted to see me. What timing! All became brighter (except for the rest of the movie) and I made plans for the evening.

aside: as we were on the phone, a ten year old Russian boy walked into my apartment and then walked out. I'm supposedly living in a "Student Hotel", but really anybody can live there. It's basically a super overpriced apartment complex. So now there's a group of 10 year olds seem to be occupying a room unsupervised. Prior to this my hall was unfortunately only Chinese and Koreans. Nothing against them, but the food they cook is less than pleasant smelling and they are difficult to understand. With the exception of my friend that lives next door. Also, while the Canuck was in residence, we noticed sheets on the fire escape covered in pigeon poop. We're pretty sure that the Asians are catching pigeons for food out there. Good on em, it just smells!

Then my Chinese friend calls who I haven't been able to see in quite a while, and I talk to my American friend about going out and a night is in the works. Hit up the first bar, meet up with the Americans, consume beverages. Blini en route to the next bar. Catch up with my Chinese friend at Fidel. And then play the waiting game for my Russian. And in he comes, like a hurricane, like a drunk drunk hurricane. I'd like to give him the excuse that he did come in on the train from Moscow and probably drank all the way, as is the custom. But his friend wasn't so blindingly drunk. After he poured half his beer on me, he made his way to the dancefloor, where he fell down and almost went to sleep. His friend rouses him and he proceeds to bother the DJ enough to have himself removed. I'm not sure he wasn't battered a bit by security. After all this, he still keeps calling me to go "гулятинг". The past time of Russians. What I typed there is a bastardisation of the word "To walk/stroll". I'll give him a chance to be sober tomorrow. If he's drunk at 3pm, I'm out.

In the middle of this, as I'm at the bar, all the sudden a friend that had gone back to his country shows up. I still can't figure it out, but apparently he went back to Turkey, and decided he preferred Russia. Probably something to do with girls. Either way, we were super stoked to have him back. I think I could come back to Piter in 20 years and the Turk and the Chinese will still be sitting at that bar.

We'll save bridge lamentations for another day.

Big shows in SPB

2009-05-06T04:25:00.000-04:00

I'm going to take a minute to list some of the upcoming concerts in St. Petersburg, Russia.

Heaven and Hell ( a form of Black Sabbath)
Duran Duran
The Pet Shop Boys
Morrissey
The Bloodhound Gang
Nick Cave and The Bad Seeds
Depeche Mode

and then...

Limp Bizkit
Motley Crue
Foreigner
Korn
Brittany Spears
Linkin Park
Madonna
The Scorpions w/ Alice Cooper and The Rasmus

That is pretty much the sum-total of big concerts coming to SPB. If I had the money, I would check out some of the first list. And if I had the money, I would buy all the tickets to the second list...and then light them on fire. Well, except for the last one. I would go to that one.

On the beach!

2009-04-26T07:02:00.000-04:00

While spring officially started weeks ago, it has been quite chilly, and sometimes downright cold. Not today!! I grabbed my sandals...and sweater and headed to the beach! I live on the bay, Finsky Zaliv. Doesn't it sound exotic? I'll show you how exotic:

And no, I have no idea what this thing is, except that it seems to be made mainly of rubber.

Ok, really, that's not fair. It's pretty from certain views, but I didn't get any good shots of good views. Maybe this one:

I'm off to catch some sun on my balcony! Yay!!

How I managed to get in trouble with two countries governments at once...or maybe not at all.

2009-04-24T02:25:00.001-04:00

So the cops here are notorious for stopping people and demanding to see documents, i.e. passport. Since I arrived here, I've only seen brown men get stopped. You can call it racial profiling I suppose, but there is a large problem with illegal immigration from border countries. Recently though, I saw 2 white guys get stopped in the same day. I thought, well maybe they're trying to be less stereotypical, maybe not. I found out (heard, not sure of the validity) yesterday that this month is recruitment month for the militia and the military. So they are stopping young white guys too to make sure they didn't miss out on their military duty. Why did I have this conversation yesterday? Well it followed shortly after we got picked up by the police. Rather, 3 got picked up, I got a pedestrian escort. Good times. Here's the skinny of a not so interesting interaction with Russian militia.

I and my Canadian Cohort are walking back to our domicile. En route, we pass two other Canadians. They are sitting on a bench, having what they like to refer to as "street beers". They get a real kick out of drinking on the street. I guess I can't say anything, I'm a big fan of "street-meat", and no, that's not what that means. We stop to converse. Ya da ya da. Enter the Militia. "Where are you from?" "Do they let you drink beer on the street in Canada and America? In front of a school no less?" Hmmm, very valid point Mr. Officer, what about everybody else? Russians do it all the time. Well, validly they had the right to do something, these guys were drinking in public, illegal. Does it matter that there are two beers and four people? That two are sitting and two are clearly about to walk on? Negs. I'm not surprised. They walk us to the car after confiscating our documents. One cop (of 3) takes out the bullet proof vests from the back of a tiny Lada and asks us to get in the back. Um, 4 people, one guitar, one tiny bench in a Lada. Not gonna happen. So the boys squeeze in and the officer shoves the door on them. I'll point out that not one of them wondered if it was ok to leave a female alone with a Russian officer. Chivalry may be dead in Canada, I'll have to do further research. At the last minute before driving off, the cop in the front hands my escort my documents. And we start walking. He berates me about something. In retrospect, I thought I knew what he was talking about, but now I'm not sure. I ask him where we're going. He says, Militia. I say, Where is that? He doesn't answer. I think the problem is that one of my documents is expired, but I'm sure it's in my apartment which is across the street, let's go get it. No. Can we call the university? No. We keep walking. Then his cell phone rings, Not his police walkie-talkie. He hands me my documents and walks away. I see the car pull up without the boys, he walks over and gets in. Then I see the boys walking up from the other direction. What happened? Just your everyday Russian bribery. They each paid 500 rubles or about 15 bucks, no paper work, and the cops let them go. I really think that in these situations, it's to your benefit to not speak much Russian and keep saying you don't understand. I wasn't even approached about paying and I actually had an expired document!

Which brings me to my next point. I get back to my room where I'm meant to be packing to go to Moscow and realize the document is not in my room. It dawns on me, I never got reregistered. Registering is this little thing of letting the Russian government know your wearabouts at all times. Technically, if you are in one city for longer than three days, you should register again. Dumb. Well, when I got my passport back from getting a new visa, it was right in the middle of my bank account problems, so she says, take your passport, fix that, and come back and register. I had a few weeks. Well with that mess, and then the apartment mess, I completely forgot. So now I'm supposed to go to Moscow, but I have expired documents, which carries a fine, and possible deportation. So I couldn't go. This morning I high-tail it to school with said tail between my legs, to get this sorted out. The woman, who told me that I HAD to bring my passport back to her to get registered tells me, Oh no problem, I have your registration right here! What?! You've had it this whole time? Why did you tell me you didn't have it and that you needed my passport to take care of it??!!! Why did you tell me it's soooo important and to make sure I came back to fix this? Why?! Because it's Russia, that's why. This is just normal.

So I missed out on Moscow for no reason. Train ticket gone. But hey, now I have time to figure out why I'm being audited!... (yeah, no joke there)

Challenge for Fun

2009-04-21T10:33:00.000-04:00

The finer points of Russian language. I was informed today by one of my teachers that the words "fun" and "challenge" do not necessarily exist in the Russian language. Well I've been told a hundred times if I've been told once, "Life is hard in Russia". Always with a pitiful face. So my guess is that the word "challenge" is just translated as Жизнь, or life. And "fun"? Well what room for that word can there be in a culture of perpetual challenge.

Semi-Quasi-Ultra Political

2009-04-20T11:10:00.000-04:00

My Chinese friend, Wu says yesterday-“I don’t go to school tomorrow. It is Asian Holiday. Hitler’s Birthday”

Well, clearly he didn’t mean holiday like Праздник. He meant that it wasn’t safe for Asians on the streets of Russia on such a marked day.

Sidebar: Do you think perhaps it's a bad idea to have the UN Conference on Racism and the Holocaust memorial services in Israel on the anniversary of Hitler's birthday? I mean, maybe it's to detract from pro-Hitler demonstrations but I'm sure it only causes more racist demonstrations.

At the Lenta yesterday (think Wal-Mart) I wandered into the electronics department to buy a hair iron. An all important tool in modern Russia. Women who choose not to have one of the many smart short-dos that Russian women wear so well, usually have either straight straight hair, or super super curly hair. You would think this would lead to lower prices for the tools used to create such dos. I mean, the law of supply and demand says that high demand equals high price. But it always boggles my mind when something so intrinsic to a society has such high prices. Stripper boots, absurd fur coats, hats, etc., hair irons; these are things intrinsic to female Russian society. There are mass quantities and a thousand stores to buy these things at. But all of the above are twice as much as western prices, even at second hand stores. So I did not purchase a 60$ hair iron. But while I was perusing the choices (actually only two, but 15 hair dryers, there must be a warehouse of hair irons somewhere that I am unaware of) I noticed that the film showing on the television models was a scene depicting a man and two women in bed. Oh yeah, nudity all over the place. Interesting. Free porn viewing at the local super center.

I went to a market the other day. This place mostly sells clothes, used clothes, and well, everything, but mostly clothes. There is one fruit and veg stand. I saw they had some peppers that looked like they might be spicy, a delicacy from what I’ve seen. Hell, flavour is a delicacy in this country. Anyway, I communicated my inquiry as to their spiciness. I receive, “not very”, but that’s better than not at all, so I grab three and make my way over to pay. It’s fairly obvious I’m not Russian at this point by my 3-year old requests for produce. So the large dark haired, dark skinned, fully gold toothed woman asks where I’m from. I oblige. She gets the biggest smile on her face and says, “Honest?!” Then she’s grabbing others and telling them I’m an American. I’m pretty sure she had never met an American. It was cute, and kind of flattering I suppose. But I felt conflicted. I’m nearly positive that this woman was Georgian, hence her love of Americans maybe. But I backed Russia in the conflict. I mean, I don’t have to fell ashamed for being flattered I suppose. But I guess I’m a little concerned over her extreme excitement, like she’d just met Madonna. I guess there are still America worshipers out there. I’m all for Becka worship, but I’m a little uncomfortable being adored for my country.

Back to the UN Conference on Racism. Ahmadinejad. Well, I'll be honest, I thought he was pretty well behaved and the whole thing was a political circus. I'm not pro-Israel or pro-Palestine, I need to put some more research into this, but I will say, that I strongly doubt that Israel is behaving better than Palestine, probably worse, and maybe the Western world is a little biased in how they are handling things. The media coverage of this has just been ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as the media coverage of the Obama/Chavez picture. They act like they are so shocked by Ahmadinejad. Everyone knew he was going to say it, I think he toned it down. His words have some value. Just like Limbaugh and Moore, an extreme opinion is needed to keep everything in perspective. But fortunately Limbaugh and Moore don't have nuclear power behind them... Can you imagine? Someone write that book. Or someone just buy an island that we can put Limbaugh and Moore on and let them annoy themselves to cannibalism. I am way off subject now.

Dinner time!

When does an international affair become international relations?

2009-04-13T10:53:00.000-04:00

I am not dead. Quite the opposite in fact. A new apartment has been found. This one does not come with a naked woman. It does not include all the gristle filled ravioli you can eat. It does not include a family willing to test all your toiletries for quality. It does not come with fake doors. It does however come with a washing machine. It also includes a balcony with a view of the bay. It comes with easy transport to local markets and large grocery stores. An oven thrown in for good measure. And a fair amount of privacy. The last is only disrupted by the Canadian that I have obviously been brain-washed into allowing into my life. He however includes cooking skills, and a fairly great taste in music, so we'll keep him around for now.

School is going well. I've actually been asked to leave class because I've learned enough to move on. Class. So tomorrow I start anew. Which means at least 2 maybe 3 teachers will grill me at the beginning of every class to see how much I know. Thankfully, a comrade of mine has also been given the boot, so we can get grilled together. A couple of sandwiches we are. Also, conveniently, he lives in the apartment next to mine. Class all around.

This weekend, I may be partial host to an Asian party. Let me ask a question. Who is offended by the use of "Slant eyes"? Now when I use that term, I often get a really bad reaction. But is it more offensive than "black", "blonds", etc? It's just a comment on their physical features, and it's not derisive. However, to call a group of people that includes Japanese, Korean, and Chinese people; Asian, well that seems more insensitive to me. Asia after all includes India, Turkey, Russia even, and all the Middle East. And some people are flat out offended by the term "Oriental". I suppose I should ask the people of slanted eyes myself. Well, anyway, the point is that on my floor, I am the only person of non-angled and/or particularly oblique ocular sockets. Koreans live on either side and Chinese on either end of the hall with a sprinkling of Japanese for good measure. So this weekend, we shall drink and be merry.

Next weekend I'm journeying to Moscow for the first time. I'll be sharing a sleeper train with 5 Canadians. I will either come out of this completely scarred, or dripping maple juice from my veins. Wish me luck!

Ruskie Mentalitet

2009-04-01T13:53:00.000-04:00

I imagine that anyone who has studied Russian language or Culture has come across this phrase. I hear at least 3 times a week, "In order to speak Russian, you have to understand the Russian Mentality". I can tell you, it's true. I've never found such a psychologically driven language. I'll give you a few examples:

Sometimes in English you can form a sentence using either the past or present tense or even certain forms of the future, and still retain the same meaning. If you want to make the same point in Russian, go ahead and just use the past tense. Occasionally you can throw in the future tense, but if there is a way not to use the present tense, do it. Why? Russians do not live in the present. It's too hard to deal with.

Here are other examples of the mentality showing through the language. The most frequently used words for "to have" and "to eat" are the same. This has always struck me as quite telling.

The common word for happy also can mean lucky. Because you have to be lucky here to be happy.

This one, I think I just see, but I don't think there is any etymology to back this up: the word "work" contains the word for slave.

You know, I recently kissed a Canadian, so obviously my standards and my mind are slipping (were slipping), so you'll have to take these observations with a grain of salt, if you have any.

Lenin's blow out

2009-04-01T13:34:00.000-04:00

Today may live in infamy. Today is the day that Lenin flatulated so vociferously that he blew his own ass off. This is only half a joke. This morning, someone planted a small incendiary device on the statue of Vladimir Lenin that was located near Ploshatz Lenina Metro and Finlandsky Voksal for those of familiar with SPB. It caused a hole over three feet wide.

The incident occurred at 04:30. Near a metro that doesn't open until 6am (although maybe there are trains leaving that early). It only blew his ass off (however, he is made of bronze, so this was still probably pretty strong) (I just read it was 300grams of TNT, which means nothing to me, maybe you know if this is alot or not). No one was hurt. My guess is this was just to make a point, though what I don't know. I can't imagine they meant to only blow his ass off. I mean, is there some group of terrorists sitting in a hole somewhere terribly embarrassed?

Now a friend of mine suggested that this was an April Fools joke. This is quite plausible. I found the article on the BBC, on RIA Novosti (a Russian news agency) and in one other paper. Now each article has at least one fact that the others don't. Which means that they probably didn't just line up to copy the BBC. Though it doesn't mean that some jokester didn't just call each agency and gave each one, one more piece of information. Well, perhaps tomorrow I'll pay a visit to the site. Unfortunately, if the story is true, the statue has already been removed and I won't get a picture of Lenin with blown-out trousers.

This one is from the BBC.

But if the story is true, maybe they should just buy a new Lenin. I know where you can get one cheap. ( I don't purport that wikipedia is a valid reference, but I'm in a hurry) There's one for $250,000 in America. It's original Soviet, and hell, the owner will probably lower the price, I mean, it's a crisis right?

Where's Becka??

ADDENDUM:

I just read that "Authorities ordered the monument be dismantled to carry out restoration work, after fears the statue could collapse. The work is expected to cost up to 8 million rubles ($236,000)."

Alexander Nevsky Monestary

2009-03-28T11:50:00.000-04:00

I looked at this blog and realized it was lacking in color, so here's some pictures from a cemetery.

What the hell are these? Giant mushrooms?

Tchaikovsky:

Dostoevsky:

I gotta go level out the blood in my system. Not enough alcohol.

Oh yeah, its a rant.

2009-03-26T09:54:00.000-04:00

There are trenches through the streets of St. Petersburg. I mean, the logical explanation is that they are preparing to widen the roads in what is a terribly overcrowded city. The other explanation is that they are preparing to wage war from the center of the city. Actually, maybe that’s the logical explanation. Either way, the city is taking little care to keep its residents from meeting at best, a broken leg, at worse death, in these trenches that stretch the length of many of the main streets. The trenches are covered with 2 x 4s. Don’t bother with barricades, just cover these 5 foot deep trenches with some planks of wood. In some places the planks have slid one direction or the other, leaving gaping holes in the earth right where you want to step to start crossing the street. In many places, there are just broken planks. I saw one place where obviously someone had found a bad section of wood and just stepped right through. I don’t imagine they walked away from this. I for one will avoid walking over these death traps as much as possible.

I signed up for an ICQ account today. Yes, living here is like living in a time machine. A broken time machine that needs a new transmission. Because while you can get any movie that is currently in theatres, on DVD at the local convenience store, people are still using ICQ to communicate. Walking on the streets sometimes feels like walking on the set of a Tiffany video, but…I was going to insert an opposing situation that shows the futuristic side of Russia, but maybe the pirated movies is the only step forward.

My bank card is being declined. At the local corner shop and at two ATMs. The ATM say they are decling at the request of my bank. Of course, my bank knows nothing about this.

I see a lot of men with baby strollers. Let me back up. I see very few baby strollers here. I’ve been told Russians aren’t having children. Of course, the immigrant population is making up for this. While there used to be a lot of blonde Russians, there seems to be very few now. Everyone has dark hair, and well of course there are plenty of bottled blondes. You are given some sort of prize from the government if you can manage to tolerate popping out two kids. I’m told a car or an apartment, but I’m getting this information from the insane woman I live with. INSANE. But I don’t want to get into that now. So anyway, there are very few baby strollers. Very few pregnant women. In fact, I’ve only seen pregnant women in the clinic when I got my HIV test. I haven’t seen one on the street. Maybe it’s embarrassing to walk around with the extra pounds? Maybe after 3 months they go ahead and check into the hospital for the duration? But I think really, there are just very few women, in the city at least, having children. Of the baby strollers I’ve seen, I’d have to say that 50% have been guided by men. Not even with their significant other. First, I think, “wow, how progressive.” But then the cynic steps up. Why would there be so many men with baby carriages? Well, my first thought is that after their military tours, they can’t find jobs. But I think the reality is more about laziness. Additionally, perhaps the women are hell-bent on working. In most cafes and stores, I’d say it’s 80% female staff. Continuing in the math vein, I’d say the reason for men pushing strollers is 75% Russian male sloth and 25% Russian female fortitude.

Ok, back to the crazy lady. Why? Because I just walked into the kitchen to put my dishes in the dishwasher (because she told me I need to start cleaning up after myself. Really? I thought I paid you for that. I mean, I pay you to cook, and half the time you don’t, so I figure, if I have to cook for myself, you can wash the bowl. But hey, that’s too much to ask) and she’s topless. Not just, “I just ran from my room to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and didn’t feel like putting a shirt on”. No. She’s sitting at the kitchen table listening to shitty Russian pop music. I’m sure if I’d looked longer than the 1/8^th of a millisecond that I did, I would have seen her boobs bouncing to “Poker Face” (worst song ever). I walk in and she kind of half ducks under the table with this sick smile on her face. I mean, how can you look surprised when I’ve walked in on you naked in the ONLY public room in the house at least a dozen times. The other day, I was about to eat the delightful can of cold vegetables she slopped on a plate, but needed a fork. As I’m getting a fork, she walks up to get something next to me and her towel falls off. Great. Full frontal with dinner. Pleasant.

The next day she lectures me on how I should study more. About how I should be learning 30 new words a day, because I only go to school right? I have nothing else to do. If only. You only work 3 hours a day. So quit telling me that you’re tired and asking me to do your grocery shopping. The day after, I come home to drop my school stuff off and I tell her I’m going to read the news. When I come back she gets this “Knowing” smile on her face and says, “Kristina says you just went to the internet.” Well, while Kristina had time to follow me to my destination, maybe she should have done the grocery shopping. This woman clearly has no idea you can find things like “news” on the internet. No clearly, it’s only for meeting men on ICQ…

Interesting facts about America

2009-03-19T02:14:00.000-04:00

I bought some books recently from the local book store on American History. They remind me a bit of wikipedia. The history of a country in 20 pages. The funniest thing about them is they are in English, but clearly written by Russians. The grammar isn't terrible, but the choice of included facts is...enlightening.

The first pages are "interesting facts about the 50 states"

Most are normal, "Arkansas, The only diamond mine in North America is in Arkansas" "Florida, more lakes than any other states"

Then the moderately interesting, "Delaware, Nylon was invented here"

Then the useless, uninteresting, and sometimes demeaning,
"Connecticut, Much of the land is not very good for farming". Really? You couldn't find one positive thing to say? Or perhaps something slightly interesting?

"Minnesota, Millions of people spend their vacation here each year" No. I can't believe this. Who is visiting Minnesota? Maybe Russians. Maybe they come to America but only can tolerate climates similar to their own?

And more:

Illinois--leader in farm machinery, electrical products, iron and steel, bricks, candy, and many other products. Well, I feel better knowing that, especially "many other products"

Iowa--here you can find the biggest popcorn-packing plant. Hmm, well, kind of interesting. And well, it is Iowa, so there is probably nothing more interesting.

Missouri--The state is a leader in automobiles, aerospace equipment, butter, cheese, beer, shoes, and meatpacking. Yes, meatpacking. Something to be proud of.

Montana--Almost every town in Montana has a rodeo.

Pennsylvania--first in pig iron, steel, and canned mushrooms. What the hell is pig iron? And canned mushrooms? Who has these statistics? You know, someone is excited about this statistic though.

Vermont--Produces almost all the US Asbestos

Wisconsin--leader in ice cream and dry milk. Mmmm. Dry milk.

I'm going to leave it at this. I'm sure I'll find more later to share.

Vermont--enjoy your asbestos.

Kurds and Hey

2009-03-14T04:30:00.000-04:00

I went to a bar the other night. It’s called Fidel and of course there is a mural of Castro on the main wall behind the DJ. Interesting little joint. Popular with locals and tourists, well backpackers, alike. I will say though, sometimes the breed of locals aren’t the classiest individuals. I think the knowledge that many patrons are from parts afar, gives the locals a courage they may not otherwise have. I.e., getting your ass grabbed and other forms of general harassment are fairly common. Well, anyway, this night I met men from parts afar. Kurdistan to be exact. I was initially confused how people from Kurdistan could be in St. Pete living it up at a club. I’ve been recently informed, by an all too knowledgeable Finn, that the Kurd part of Northern Iraq is quite rich right now, as apparently it is the nicest part of Iraq and many soldiers go there on their leave. Well, irrelevant to my experience. I drank quite a bit. To the point that I was dancing everywhere. The kind of behavior you regret the next morning, because you can’t remember if you were Jennifer Lopez or Bill Cosby. I walked up to this talk dark haired gentlemen and motioned for him to come dance with me. This guy was very attractive, great smile, tall, wild hair. His friend? He looked as though he was thinking about the shipment of arms he just received. This guy had short hair, a scruffy beard, and a very ethnic scarf he never took off. He sat with this menacing look on his face, twirling his prayer beads. Strange couple. My guess would be brothers. Anyway, I take to dancing with the tall one, I think his name was Ibrahim. As I remember, he wasn’t a bad dancer. However, he really enjoyed making that noise that Arabs and Indians make sometimes. You know that noise? Like a turkey after a castration? He was making this noise every 30 seconds. This made him quite an impressive figure. 6’6” at least, dark skin, unruly hair, and a trill every half minute. Eventually I had to walk away. But let me tell you, this did not stop him. I wish I had video. He continued to dance, sometimes obviously dances native to his culture, and trilling. What a night.

In an ethnic turn of events, last night I went to a club with 3 Chinese guys. It's apparently not terribly safe for them here, so they rarely go out alone. We went to this club that charged an entrance fee. I do not pay to go to clubs. I pay to see music. I do not pay to hear someone to play shitty music at ridiculous volumes with monotonous beats. Maybe if I start doing drugs I'll change my mind. Well, last night, I had to break this, as two of the boys were already in the door. 15 bucks. Really? I've not gone to concerts because I didn't want to pay 15 bucks. But I paid it. All part of the experience right? Jesus. The music was so bad. The people were worse. Thankfully, I had good company, and the boys kept me laughing all night. But the people dancing? I wish I could get some pictures. I have to find a way to develop a super discreet flash. Or maybe I'll just start carrying around my big camera and say I'm with an American newspaper. That would work, except a terrible idea in a bar. That camera will be gone or ruined in a matter of days. But maybe one night. Sometimes I think I live in city that idolizes Cat Woman. At any given time, anywhere, at least 50 percent of the women I see look like Cat Woman. I mean, it's attractive on one level I suppose, but the whole thing is laughable. I hate that this place has more women than men, but I don't envy the men. They have way too many women to look at. The streets, and certainly the clubs are filled with women that seem to only wear shirts and boots. Um, hello? It's cold outside? Maybe you want to put some pants on? Or maybe a skirt that goes below your ass? But the thing is, while they look easy, I'm sure they aren't. You have to have cash to ride this ride. Then there's the issue that even if you have the cash to pursue such a roller-coaster, you will most likely walk away with some parting gifts. Perhaps a case of the clap and a free trip to the abortion doctor. I read somewhere yesterday that women say its safer to have multiple abortions than to have a baby in a Russian hospital. And to my knowledge this is the leading form of birth control still. Whatever your opinion of abortion, you have to believe that it isn't a great idea to have 8 of them before you're 30.

Continuing on my ethnic tour last night, I was saved from a passing car of assholes, by a Turkmenistani guy at the convenience store next to my house. A BMW blaring Ludicrous, pulled up next to me as I crossed the street to my house, yelling god only knows what out the window at me. I didn't even look at them long enough to try to determine their motivation. If they spoke English, I would have had a few words for them. I tried to hide behind a van, but when they didn't leave, the guy at the store called me over there. Then they left. I mean, I know I was feeling a little down about my daily appearance in a city full of plastic barbie dolls, but this wasn't the kind of attention I was looking for!

Do you know how cheap cigarettes are here? It’s ridiculous. Parliaments cost maybe $1.75. There are plenty of cigarettes that cost about $0.50. You have to smoke in Russia. You’re wasting money if you don’t smoke here. We’re in an economic crisis, for christ’s sake.

Yesterday I saw a lobster man. He was standing at a lamppost, waving his hands at people and saying things with a terrible look on his face. I had my headphones on, so I wasn’t able to even try to understand what he was saying. I just walked quickly the other direction to avoid having his lobster hands in my face. Maybe that was wrong, but I don’t think I can change the human instinct to run from what is obviously a mistake in nature. Had he been less aggressive, perhaps my reaction would have been different. It’s kind of surreal. It happened so fast, I’m not sure it really happened. Like the dead guy at the bus stop. “So how was Russia? Did you see some cool stuff?” “Oh yes! Some amazing museums, and the architecture, fantastic! The dead guy at the bus stop was a highlight, and the Lobster boy! What a city!”