Rams and Tubes

"I hate people who write off other people’s talents just because of their taste in movies. I left..."

Thu, 07 Feb 2013 19:22:36 -0500

“I hate people who write off other people’s talents just because of their taste in movies. I left film-school for that very reason. The first thing the teacher told us was “If you want to make Terminator 2, leave now” and I was like, fuck you man. There could be a kid sat in the corner disheartened because Terminator 2 is the movie he wants to make, that’s his vision and here’s the teacher telling him he can’t do that. He had no fucking right, none of us do. Besides, I think Terminator 2 is a pretty kick-ass movie.”

- Paul Thomas Anderson (via rossbirks)

Baby Stats

Thu, 13 Dec 2012 19:38:53 -0500

What is it with new parents and their baby’s stats?

*7 POUNDS, 8 OUNCES!

*23 INCHES IN LENGTH!!

*8:45 AM!!!

*AND IF YOU CALL NOW WE’LL THROW IN A SECOND ONE FOR ONLY $19.99!

Am I supposed to find a pile of clothes somewhere and simulate the baby’s proportions? Or just mime myself carrying the baby?

How about some important information?

*Does it breathe?

*Can it mow my lawn yet?

*What percentage of time that it is awake is it crying and/or shitting?

*Is it currently sleeping (because that’s when I’d like to look at it, babies are terrifying things).

*Will it blend? (j/k, j/k)

No one cares how tall your baby is. It can’t even stand.

When my baby’s born I’m going to send out meaningful information to my loved ones:

*had baby

*it is alive

*currently accepting donations

*should be able to have sex in six weeks.

Anne Hathaway

Thu, 13 Dec 2012 01:03:56 -0500

Don’t get me wrong. I’m a little in love with her, but I get the feeling that gravity is slowly winning out.

Levels of metrosexuality

Tue, 11 Dec 2012 23:30:00 -0500

I’m pretty sure they’re determined by the overlap of your wardrobe’s venn diagrams.

There was a girl I know in high school named Amanda

Wed, 26 Sep 2012 19:19:29 -0400

One time she sent me semi-nude photos of herself to my email address. I should have had sex with her or something like that in hind sight, but I didn’t. Alas.

Humor is the ovum of dissent.

Wed, 12 Sep 2012 22:56:35 -0400

At least that’s what Sonmi~451 says in Cloud Atlas to her Archivist interrogator. I don’t like axioms. I believe there are actually very few, so most that are ever said must necessarily be presumptuous and, therefore, met with skepticism. Nevertheless, it is a provocative thought, and I would slightly alter it by replacing “the” with “an.”

As if anyone can know these things...

Sun, 12 Aug 2012 16:28:03 -0400

Maybe it’s not about finding out who you are and then pairing up the best you can figure, but finding someone who’s likely to change , over time, in the same way that you almost definitely will.

Parentheticals

Tue, 07 Aug 2012 19:48:03 -0400

(almost always an under-statement)

Beyond Rachel

Tue, 07 Aug 2012 19:43:00 -0400

It’s not that I can’t imagine what I’m going to do without Rachel in my life that makes me sad, it’s that I can imagine being happy beyond her. Without her. That’s real sad to me. We had so much fun for that short while. I would’ve loved to discover just how much fun we could’ve had. It’s a shame it had to stop so abruptly. A damn shame.

Brian gets a job as a drug runner

Thu, 26 Jul 2012 13:49:00 -0400

Brian: Hey fellas. Where you off to?

Harris: We’re going to The Jim.

Brian: The gym?

Randall: That’s right. The Jim.

Brian: Can I come?

Harris and Randall shoot side glances. Randall squints. Harris frowns.

Brian: Aw, come on fellas. I’ve been looking for something for a while and I think it’s just what I need to get me out of this rut.

Brian was recently let go from his job and his mother recently told him she thought he was gay. He wasn’t. It’s been a rough 3 months.

Harris’ eyebrows raise and he weighs the third wheel. Randall still squints as he exhales with grief.

Harris: Sure. Get your things.

Randall shakes his head slowly. Brian scrambles to his room. He emerges wearing athletic shorts, a cut-off sleeve t-shirt, and a sweatband around his head. Randall’s jaw drops slightly in disbelief.

Harris: What are you wearing?

Brian furrows his brow and pulls his head back in confusion.

Harris: Forget it. Let’s go.

*****

The Jim: Who in the flying fuck is this?!

The Jim’s pointing his left index finger at Brian with his elbow resting on his desk, glaring at Harris. His right hand finds the revolver mounted underneath.

Harris: It’s our new room mate. He’s cool.

The Jim: Is he?! And what the hell is he wearing?

The Jim shoots a glance at Brian. Brian’s eyes are wide and his palms start sweating. Harris has both of his hands raised to his chest, palms facing The Jim. Randall rolls his eyes.

Harris: He’s cool.

Brian nods toward The Jim.

Brian: …wh-who are you?

The Jim: I’m The Jim. Who the fuck are you?

Brian: I’m Brian.

Brian’s thoroughly confused. The Jim squints as his right hand eases off of the gun. He opens a drawer and pulls out a notepad. He tears off the top page and hands it to Randall.

The Jim: Everything’s there. Call me tonight.

The Jim won’t take his eyes off of Brian and the three leave his office.

This is what K will write the lender so he can get the awesome house

Mon, 23 Jul 2012 17:52:34 -0400

Dear super-rich people with money,

We like this house. A lot. If you let us pay you more money for it my friend Jon would be totally stoked and grateful and would throw the fattest of gainers off the roof.

Sincerely yours for thirty (if you’ll have us),

K & M

Killing Bill

Sun, 22 Jul 2012 15:21:03 -0400

Kill Bill might be the best story Tarantino has written. Pulp Fiction is definitely the coolest movie he’s made with some of the best dialogue. Ever. Reservoir Dogs was incredibly intense and was performed wonderfully. Inglourious Basterds was an alternative narrative to well-known history and so a lot of the material could not have been original (or at least the main plot drivers), but was still magnificent as one can expect from Tarantino. Kill Bill, however, was a beautiful story about love. How it makes us hurt people and how it hurts us. The hyperbole of assassinations and murder and gore and sword-fighting are just vehicles to parallel a story almost everyone already knows - that love, whether between mother and child, or between lovers, is a powerful motivator, and can and will force people to do extraordinary things. A motivator that exceeds greed, pleasure, hate, etc. It’s like Bill says, “I’m a killer. A murdering bastard, you know that. And there are consequences to breaking the heart of a murdering bastard. You experienced some of them.”

When Jesus turned water into wine (John 2: 1-11 redux)

Mon, 16 Jul 2012 02:35:00 -0400

1: So there was this wedding happening in Cana and Jesus’ Mom was going.

2: Jesus and the boys got an invite.

3: They showed up and they were all like, “We gon’ get our drink on! Holla!” But Jesus’ Mom was like, “They got no drank!”

4: And Jesus wasn’t having none of that so he was like, “Captain Buzz Kill, who asked you? Don’t you know who I am?”

5: And then Mary, knowing Jesus’ need to get down as well as perhaps fearing for what the boys might to if they don’t get their drink on told some of the wedding staffers, “Do what the bearded man says, else there’s gonna be some shit.”

6: Next thing you know there’s six stone pots that could carry two to three firkins apiece sitting at the feet of Jesus and the crew. Now, a firkin is basically a shit ton of liquid, or butter, or soap depending on where you come from, but when it comes to liquid, it’s a shit ton. Unless of course you’re using the term in the context of wooden buckets, but this is unlikely. At least as unlikely as throwing a wedding with only six 10” x 10” wooden buckets worth of wine (lame!). So it’s more or less safe to assume that we’re referring to the 318 litres “firkin”. Like I said, a shit ton.

7: Jesus told the people to fill the pots up with water. Just a reminder, in case you didn’t do the math, this is, like, 1,908 litres of liquid. Or, like, 504 gallons. Or, like, 8,065 8 ounce glasses of some merlot. Now that’s a party amirite?!

8: Then Jesus told them to pour themselves some of that vino.

9: The guy throwing the party got the first glass, because it was a classy affair and there was an order to these things or whatever and guess what he found out? That water wasn’t no water at all, it was wine. He was totally pumped about this and must have drank it really fast because he called the groom over and wouldn’t shut his trap about it:

10: “Mos’ guys ‘r like, bringin’ you wine ‘n tryin’ be all Great Gatsby on you ‘n shit, but when you drinkin’ lots you can’t tell if it’s shit or actually good or nuttin’. But this here’s actually damn good! Fer realskies.”

11: So Jesus pulled this stunt at a wedding and everyone thought he was the cat’s pajamas because the guy made 8,065 glasses of wine appear out of seemingly nowhere.

Fuckin' Maui

Fri, 13 Jul 2012 18:59:02 -0400

Maui was a fucking trip. I missed my flight on the way there, my luggage broke, I lost my wallet, and ruined my phone all within the first 48 hours. I tried to come home early at one point but the change fees and difference in fare dissuaded me. I smoked a lot of weed. A. Lot. I tried mushrooms for the first time - which actually wasn’t that big of a deal. I think. I don’t remember a lot of it. And I drank enough wine to…well I drank a shit ton of wine.

I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to spend the money. There were days I was terribly sad and upset. There were days where the company of the brothers from DC or the girls from Montreal kept me occupied enough with conversation and company, but lingering behind my eyes was the heartbreak. I think they knew, but then again, they don’t know how I normally am.

Don’t travel alone (that’s to me - you can travel alone if you want, I don’t give a shit what you do). But I’d really prefer to travel with someone. I should have learned this lesson from New York in 2010, but I didn’t because Aimee could not have gone with me then, as it was a scholastic affair.

Whatever. I was in Maui, got a nice tan, drank and smoked a lot, and slept, subsequently, like a stoned baby. Oh, and the shrooms. I did those. Whoop-dee-fukkin-doo.

A Provocative Perpetuum Mobile

Fri, 13 Jul 2012 03:55:03 -0400

I don’t know if we were supposed to meet at the wedding. I don’t know if there was someone or something that wanted us together. I don’t know any of that, but when I got divorced I knew I was the master of my destiny. That I was in control of my life and I could make of it what I wanted. And I’ll be damned if I let a three hour time difference and a bad past relationship get in between myself and the most beautiful, amazing, sarcastic, sexy woman I’ve ever been able to call mine.

I know that’s intimidating. I know it scares the shit out of you. Me too. I’m terrified of you. You weren’t supposed to happen for another couple of years. After I’d travelled more and slept with more women and found myself, or whatever. But you did. You happened. We’ve been spending the last quarter of our lives getting fucked up with religion and bad relationships and disappointment and sadness and we’ve found each other now. At this juncture, where you’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever touched and loved.

We went to the wedding. We kissed. We made love. We fell so deeply in love so fast. Far beyond what anyone would consider emotionally safe. And that shit was real.

I haven’t stopped thinking about you since the wedding. Your laugh. Your smile. Your carelessness for everyone. Not a single goddamned hour has gone by where I haven’t thought about you. I wish it wasn’t this way. I wish I could forget all about you and the knot in my chest. I wish I’d never met you some days. But I get the feeling you were always going to happen. That there was a certain inevitability to you. To us.

Goddamnit Rachel you’re perfect. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to stop loving you. I don’t know that I’ll ever want that.

Adult benchmarks

Thu, 12 Jul 2012 16:57:05 -0400

I really feel like I have my shit together when my car has good windshield wipers.

Well, the Maui trip...

Thu, 05 Jul 2012 18:20:01 -0400

…has gotten to an interesting start. I missed my flight day before yesterday and had to spend it in the airport waiting for the evening flight. When I arrived in Maui I discovered the handle to my luggage had been removed (presumably accidentally). Yesterday I spent the entire day drinking and then smoked some weed later in the evening. Incidentally, I lost my wallet and jumped into a hot tub with my phone in my back pocket. None of this really upset me until this morning, when I was sober. Actually, none of this upsets me too greatly at all. I’m going to smoke some weed right now so that it will upset me less.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

Sun, 01 Jul 2012 13:38:38 -0400

It didn’t make as much sense until now.

I don’t know what makes people think they’re qualified to give relationship advice? In...

Tue, 12 Jun 2012 13:19:00 -0400

I don’t know what makes people think they’re qualified to give relationship advice? In this country they are as likely to be divorced as not, and if they’re not divorced, they could very well be in a relationship that I would never want to emulate. There are two couples that I look up to in regards to relationships. And I know many more.

Conversations with Strangers

Thu, 07 Jun 2012 02:49:40 -0400

There is a unique comfort in telling a stranger something about yourself you wouldn’t want anyone close to you to know. Sharing a burden you are carrying with another human without having to worry what he or she will think of it afterwards. Not that they won’t think anything about you when they are done listening, but that it simply won’t matter. At least this is how Fernando felt as he sat alone in the cafe. There are a lot of people in café almost always. They don’t always come to drink coffee. Fernando wasn’t. Fernando was waiting for someone to talk to. He sat thinking about what his co-worker said to him earlier—

“Is someone sitting here?” Said a man looking at Fernando.

“No, go for it,” Fernando said with a sigh.

“Long day huh?”

“No not really…What’s your name?”

“Mark. You?”

“Fernando. Hey let me ask you something. Do you think that we really landed on the moon?”

Mark squinted.

“You see I work with this guy who swears that we didn’t land on the moon and if you say that we did land on the moon he talks to you like you’re some kind of Kool-Aid drinker.”

“Kool-Aid drinker?”

“Yeah, you know that religious nut who had all the people drink the poisonous Kool-Aid…you know, ‘Don’t drink the Kool-Aid!’”

“No, but to answer your question: Yes, I think we landed on the moon. And if we didn’t, the jokes on the Russians anyway.”

“Soviets. They were called Soviets then.”

“Oh…”

There was a long pause where Fernando was looking at Mark while Mark tried to avoid further conversation. It wasn’t a good habit to correct the stranger with whom you are conversing. It defeats the hope of maintaining a neutral atmosphere – the best kind for strangers to talk. Fernando knew this, but he couldn’t resist. This conversation with Mark was over.

Fernando’s life is in a rut. It had been years since something truly excited him and throughout he’s been worried he won’t experience anything great, that no one will remember him and say, “Man that Fernando was really something.”

Fernando is married with two young kids. His conversations with strangers are nothing new. It started when he was in high school and took a strong liking to talking to girls anywhere and everywhere he happened to be. He was in a relationship that started when he was 15 where he thought he was truly in love. The reality was that she was remarkably attractive and that was about it. He never bought her anything, never thought about what kind of dates she would really want to go on, what her favorite color was (he thinks it might be purple but is not sure). Sometimes he can’t even remember what color her eyes were. But he remembers her face, her body, and most of all, the way others would look at her. It was the status she brought to him that made him feel so powerful. That is why breaking up with her was so difficult. But then one day she broke up with him for good, and he knew it. She was done. It was then that he realized that he was missing a real relationship.

Usually the optimist he took the opportunity to meet and love someone who would be a true friend. Someone who would want to know him and he would want to know. So he started out on his quest to find one, in a sort of cavalier way. He would start talking to girls anywhere he was—the burger joint, cafes, bookstores, the park, bars, parties (though this wasn’t the best place to have a conversation), and anywhere else he happened to run into the opposite sex.

Then he met his wife. Her name was Molly. She was perfect to him. When they met he was impressed with the way that she didn’t stand out - or want to stand out - and yet was unmistakably present. She had a smart smile, brilliant teeth, and blue eyes. He knew what color her eyes were. They fell in love and married. It really almost happened that fast. Fernando figured that once he knew, he knew. Now they had been married for seven years and he felt that nothing had been new for at least the past four, after their first baby was about a year old. His wife was still beautiful, but she seemed unimpressed with Fernando, and it couldn’t help but show in that smart smile of hers. Fernando reciprocated this with a lack of romance and chivalry. He had heard of this sort of thing before they got married, and even in the first few years of marriage, but he never believed it could happen to him. After all, he was married to Molly, his queen.

It was still difficult though. Fernando couldn’t tell anything new to Molly. She knew his jokes, mannerisms, sarcasm, wit (or the lack of), etc. How could he talk to someone who knew everything about him, and seemed uninterested as well? How?

So he started conversing with strangers for the sake of novelty. He talks with many people in different places. Sometimes his conversations are long and sometimes they are short. Some are provocative. Some are very shallow.

~~~~~

Fernando sat waiting for his dentist to call him back so he could get his biannual cleaning. Fernando has had no cavities his whole life. His wife resented him for it. When they met she didn’t have any cavities, but then her dentist had found four in one visit. The reality was that his wife hadn’t been to the dentist during her entire time she was at college. That’s not to say that her teeth weren’t beautiful, because they were. In fact, that was one of her best features, according to Fernando. She had brilliantly white teeth that, owing to braces, were brilliantly straight. She, nevertheless, had six cavities, the other two had been found on a later visit about a year later. She resented him for it because he really didn’t take care of his teeth like she did. He brushed and occasionally swigged mouthwash (if it wasn’t the stinging, alcoholic type) but he virtually never flossed.