Chronicles Of The Sweet Life

Remember When...

2012-02-10T14:33:00.000-08:00

This cast was supposed to be Jim Carrey, and that he was going to get fat to play Curly. And that Sean Penn was Larry and Benecio del Toro was Moe? Remember that, and reports that this script was supposed to be more of a behind the scenes, maybe even a darker look ala Andy Kaufman in Man On The Moon and that the Farrelly's were quoting this as a departure for them and hinting things like gravity and the project they've been dreaming their whole careers to make? Remember that, or did I make all that up? Remember how good that sounded? Why else would these actors have attached themselves?

Okay, now what the fuck is this?

Two On A Monday Morning...

2012-01-23T07:01:00.000-08:00

Jimmy Fallon Is A National Treasure...

2012-01-13T18:17:00.000-08:00

Been There Done Everything But That...

2012-01-08T15:04:00.000-08:00

This girl is my hero. Now that's out of the way, let me quickly and grotesquely make this about me. I did this several years ago - bungee jumped from this spot -- the second highest bungee in the world at the time --- on the border of Zimbabwe and Zambia above the Zambezi and in the ballpark of Vic Falls. I had a flight to catch that morning and was crazy hungover from drinking 20 Mosi beside a murky resort pool after barely not drowning in the Zambezi the day prior. I got to the site early to make sure I was the first one in line and the scale was broken. They told me to guess and I said something like 200. They wrote it on my arm and off I went, off to face my greatest fear - heights. But it wasn't just heights, it was heights in Africa. Big fucking difference. And actually, it wasn't just heights in Africa, but heights on the seemingly lawless bridge of no man's land floating between the two highly unstable countries of Zimbabwe and Zambia. Super big fucking difference. I was already soaked in sweat and about to toe the platform. The jump team was busy with checks when the guy working the scale summoned me back inside. Like anyone who had been eating bread and cheese and drinking wine on the beaches of South Africa with his traveling girlfriend for 2 months, for 2 meals a day, I soon found to have underestimated my weight by a not so insignificant 15 pounds. When I got to the platform the second time, and told the jump team my new weight, they all looked at each other with wide eyes, changed language to something I couldn't understand and then started laughing until one of them had a tear in his eye. The crying guy then turned to me to say something like - Man, this might not have gone so well for you.

"The company maintains, "The broken equipment has been replaced."" Classic.

Everything Except Naming Them Adam & Eve, Which Someone Actually Did...

2012-01-03T08:17:00.001-08:00

Chan & The Man...

2012-01-02T15:19:00.000-08:00

Best Of 2011...

2011-12-31T15:52:00.001-08:00

I don't know where it's all headed from here. As I make the transition into being supported by words and ideas, as I transfer my endurance ambitions to another site, as my heart is no longer inspired, more disgusted by anything short of extraordinary fascination, the threat of content fade will remain a great threat. But we'll certainly endure. We have for 7 years now. 7 years. There's always SNL...hopefully always Stefon.

March 23, 2011
Time To Pick A Fight...

Hey bro, how's it going? You cool? Cool. November 28th, yeah that was your day and that day wasn't so long ago, was it? Let me just come out and say something before I say a lot of other things, that we are all proud of what you did that day, your first Ironman. Congratulations. If that's what you want to hear, you can fucking have it. Take it, put it in your pocket, pull it out any time you need to jerk off by celebrating your own mediocrity. You'll never fool me. And seriously, if victory like that is victory you want to hang onto, please just dig a grave and put yourself in it. Stop distracting the world from the alarmingly short supply of genuine, inspired effort.

I am going to destroy you in every sense of the word.

April 15, 2011
Holy Shit They Just Let Me Into Kona!

That’s exactly what it felt like when I read the e-mail after class, me as Chuck and running up and down the street in Santa Monica, looking for someone who would understand exactly what it meant - to be allowed to race in Kona - to get ripped by the course I’ve seen rip through contenders as far back as I can remember, sitting on a couch and watching the race unfold on some calm, lazy December day, helplessly crying and crying because I couldn’t take it, because I was so inspired by it - the sight of bodies crumbling and failing and enduring, utter destruction and triumph of the human spirit. It was always so beautiful to me. Now I’m going there, to participate in it. It’s breaking me now, just typing this…

May 02, 2011
Fuck Week...

There's all this shit on my desktop, motorcycle insurance and appointments and academic articles I write because I'm a false fucking whore. Tomorrow morning, I have to go into the DMV, then I have to run, have to sit in the sun, have to let my skin strengthen and burn and grow confident under this suddenly scorching California. I got a call today from someone trying to make my man-u into a movie, who told me about some big swinger in some faraway city who is afraid of my truth, afraid to take my hand, afraid I will break her bones. No, she won't even look into my eyes and it's making me fire, and it's making something recently dormant inside of me agitate. The seams aren't splitting like they used to, instead resilient, expanding and stretching as I breathe weighted, obscene, absurd breath. Everything about this feels so fucking absurd. Everything about me, this week. Hopefully not next. Thursday, I'm driving to Utah. Saturday, I'm running the Ironman and I feel flat, controlled. I feel strong, like I can see him, the Devil, looking at me, hands already tight in white tape. His clout is fading. I'm going to take him by the throat and pin him against the ground, drool and spit rage all over his face. I'll tell him these things, speak my peace then let him up, before I ask him to take my hand and show me what's next and where to wander and where to not fear the fall. He is my friend, sometimes my mentor, often misunderstood as vile. Only when he returns do I realize how much I've missed, the depth of my responsibility. Someone's hand is on my face, holding it, a girl. I'm not dismantling her for trying. There is no desire. There's a ring on my finger that won't come off. It means more to me than anything. It has to always. The streets are too many, my remaining steps too few.

July 19, 2011
We Were Driving Together, Somewhere Near The Beginning...

And talking about this and she didn't understand, saying things like but why would you write there, and put words out there if you don't actually want people to read them. I said she was inaccurate, that I didn't care if people read them or not, that the last thing I ever wanted was to engage anyone or convey a reach out, or make anyone ever believe they could reach back. I explained that the act itself served a purpose, for me, to move me along, or to simply write about the things that mattered to me, or affected me. At some point she mentioned how disappointed she would be if I ever wrote anything about her here, how disappointing it would be that I couldn't just say it myself. I understood that. I only come here when there's nothing left to say.

Friday, I left her and there was a voice telling me to end it. Because it was comfortable, and good. Because it was really good. Because I could see no end in sight. Because I've trained and triggered myself to behave in such a manner to be capable of loving something one day and then walk away from it the next. I didn't love her. But I could have. I would have eventually. Maybe that's why I didn't listen to the voice - there was a part of me that was ready for that. Maybe. When knowing friends asked me about her, this Girl, I would tell them I thought we would go a distance, that the irrational darting madness that often occupies me was stifled, and clearly accepting of her. They would smile and pet my head or shoulder.

It's Tuesday now. I feel like I got what I wanted, and that it's not at all what I wanted. She called last night to hit the brakes, and I got out. She hit the brakes. I do this thing in rare, anticipatory moments when something of feeling is coming at me, where I stand to meet it, to witness the full force of it. Last night, there was a turn in the conversation that stood me on my feet, the morbid excitement of never knowing what's really coming until it comes. No matter how much grace or trained composure I presume to have over the situation, I know a great force will always take me apart, and that it will be ultimately cold-blooded and fucking remorseless. When the time comes, my say is an illusion, and I know this. That's why as I stood to meet it, fists balled, I knew I was getting ready for a hopeless showdown.

I hung up and couldn't sleep, naturally. Around 3 AM, in a haze, I turned over to check my phone to see she had written. The e-mail was short and very dramatic and at first glance, I was actually insulted by it, not angry, but insulted by the frailty of everything that had happened between us - that in the end, we were as fleeting as anything. I was convinced we weren't. This morning I see the letter as something different, more of a gift - someone taking the time to let me know, in words and tones tailored for me to understand, that I was good. Hopefully, that will be enough.

August 09, 2011
On Leaving A Part Of My Heart In CamSur...

Last year, almost to the day, I was getting evicted from my hotel in Naga City, Philippines. I had been there for about 2 weeks, training in a surprisingly great gym and out on the scorching roads and through the villages, living off oatmeal, almonds and boco. I was writing, constantly writing things that will afford me this lifestyle again, and soon. And, I was begging anyone, everyone to help me find a bike so that I could race in my first 70.3. It was an experience that stretched me deeply. It reached inside and showed me the depths of what a stranger I was, the depths of nothing working out the way I hoped it could before everything did. I’ll never forget it, any of it - the people, the smell, the hurt, the hope — and I’m not even talking about the race yet.

Eventually, two hours after the cut off for bike check, this mechanic Erik built me a bike in his alleyway shop in Naga City. I took a cab back to the complex, checked in, slept in a second hotel that deserves its own post, woke up, listened to the YouTube of Playing With Fire about 11 times before walking to the bus, before getting to the start line, racing on a bike with no shoes or pedal grip, blowing up on the run in 100 degree heat, drinking Cobra and stumbling across the line in a 5:29.

I’m seeing posts across the internet for this year’s version and I can feel something growing inside of me, some force asking why we’re not there again, to partake in another day that last year gave so, so much. It makes me sad not being there, and I never expected to feel that way. There’s something untouched and inspired about that part of the world, at the very least for a handful of moments, at least for me. Now, it’s something rooted inside, trying to drag me back. I have no doubt it will soon succeed.

August 29, 2011
When I Think About This, It's Quite Beautiful...

That there was a point in my life, not so long ago, absolutely and not for dramatic purposes, where I became convinced I was going to die before today, my 30th. The thought made me into everything I was, occupying obsession. Then it became something else, something literary, which will become something else, something literary, which will become something else, something literary. Right now I'm trying to think of a brilliant way to lead myself into saying something trite yet poignant like, "This is my life," but there I just said it, and exactly as I had hoped.

So Happy...

2011-12-17T17:39:00.000-08:00

There is nothing more for me to say. Favorite cast member ever. There's that. Holiday episode. There's that too. Okay, I'm done.

In Which They Played The Same Song 9 Times In A Row...

2011-12-13T15:23:00.001-08:00

"Niggas In Paris." One of two things happened after Jay and Kanye walked off the stage last night in Los Angeles. Either they slapped hands and fell to the ground laughing, Jay paying Kanye 1 million cash on the bet he lost, Kanye saying, "I told you those motherfuckers would still be singing the 9th time around - I'M DONE the world has gone dumb as shit." OR they immediately dipped their dicks in Cristal and started talking about how legendary they are, going city to city, outdoing themselves by playing the same fucking song that samples quotes from fucking Blades Of Glory over and over and over again. 9 times. Love them both, really do, but I would fearfully bet on the latter. 90% of this album just felt like a stunt. This is me rooting for someone to knock them down. This is me absorbing the reality that MBDTF is as good as either of them will ever be. But that's okay. Epic is a brutal act to follow.

Genius...

2011-12-12T15:02:00.000-08:00

When All Is Right In The World...

2011-12-11T15:00:00.000-08:00

And Not To Be Outdone...

Can I Be Honest...

2011-12-02T10:17:00.000-08:00

There has always been something so enchanting about the way Lana Del Rey's music first crept out. I know she's been around for a bit...sort of, and had a start/stop in there somewhere, but those first two released songs, Blue Jeans and Video Games had something in them that made even seasoned listeners give pause. In music these days, that's nothing short of a minor miracle. Now she's buzzing and the Troubador probably sold out in two seconds and will have lines of people begging to get in to make the scene. Good for her. She deserves it. The reason I'm even writing this is because as the album release is approaching, and new stuff is starting to arrive, for some reason, I'm ready to not like her...because even though I love the music, there's something behind it really bothering me that I can't quite put my finger on. That's a lie - I know exactly what it is. So I was ready to dismiss this new track, and her as a flash, until I couldn't, until I told myself just to shut the fuck up and enjoy something hopefully genuine, and really, really good. Shine on sister.

The Karlie Kloss Show...

2011-11-30T16:26:00.000-08:00

Please God, If You're Out There, Please Toture And Kill Us All, Every One Of Us. Start Over. We Have Gone Astray...

2011-11-25T18:09:00.000-08:00

A Desire To Believe In Two Things Critical To My Survival As A Human Being...

2011-11-21T22:13:00.001-08:00

Magic and fine cinema - will likely be pulling me to 3 important showings this weekend. With greatness being sought.

My Boy Gary Ross...

2011-11-16T14:43:00.000-08:00

Is one of the greats. He leaves a mark. I have huge respect for that. Handing over key parts to Wes Bentley and Lenny Kravitz - that's fine style. I never read any of the Hunger Games books, and probably won't, but I'm certainly interested in this. Seems like there's lots to be interested in these days.

And of course it almost goes without saying that if this movie has 1/4 the balls of its one true predecessor, it's going to solid, solid, solid. "I said no whispering!"

Has A Cast Ever Been This Loaded...?

2011-11-06T13:35:00.000-08:00

Oh, How Desperately I Want To Love Eddie Murphy Again...

2011-10-26T12:26:00.000-07:00

You Know That Scene...

2011-10-19T20:29:00.000-07:00

From the second Lord Of The Rings where King Theodin is under siege from all those shit gurgling goblins and demons ready to break into Helms Deep and kill and eat and rape everything in sight? He says, "What can men do against such reckless hate?," brimming with despair and the anticipation of a grim, grim fate. That's what I thought of when I watched this video -- the moral laden Chinese as the rape and slaughter hungry goblins. This is not a Westerner throwing stones either. It's not that. Nor is it the equivalent of someone from Hong Kong or Guangzou watching selective feeds of Swamp People and Jersey Shore from America and seeing us fucked. Clearly, of course. I know I've seen videos like this before, but this one feels different, haltingly different. Something about the day and age.

I don't know if I've ever put a disclaimer on this blog before, but the following is absolutely awful, and necessary.

Many Days Until February...

2011-10-12T16:07:00.000-07:00

Click the Ironman WC Link, Scroll to 11:29...

And My Head Just Exploded...

2011-10-09T17:42:00.000-07:00

Kona Energy Lab...

2011-10-05T21:40:00.000-07:00

I’ve been going through the last beats of work before taking Thursday off before a little bit of everything on Friday before Big Day Saturday. Today, I took a drive to the famed Energy Lab. Supposed to be hot, supposed to take toughness from the world’s toughest. Today, I ran about 4 miles, just to put the familiarity in my body before it soon tries to pull me apart. Sure, it’s hot, and coming back away from the ocean there’s both a steady climb to the Queen K and what felt like a 10-15 degree bump in heat before you realize you’ve earned the right to run perhaps the most magical last 5 miles of any race, anywhere. They’ll either feel like the longest or shortest 5 miles of my life. Either way, it’s gonna be magic. Everything is magic, and growing.

Ironman Kona 2011 - Tuesday...

2011-10-05T01:52:00.000-07:00

It's impossible to not feel this place. It's electric and moving. Every hour, more and more people show up, more and more people stretching across these hallowed roads. I need to sleep. Woke up this morning to swim about 1.5 off the pier, biked about 30 on the gusty Queen K and ran a hard 4 on Ali'i. I learned that my fear of gusts against 1080/808's is quite appropriate, but also something I need to get over right now. I can never stop drinking on this course. Not ever on the run.

Off to get 10 hours, then more of the same. Kid in Candyland.

Yes It's True, I Am A Big Fan Of Happiness...

2011-09-23T20:23:00.000-07:00

Germany, In The Fall...

2011-09-19T10:37:00.000-07:00

Pulls so hard, my guts literally hurt, like I'm in love or 3 hours ago ate some bad chicken.

Ooh, New Cam Crowe...

2011-09-14T17:35:00.000-07:00

Thanks Stallion, You've Always Been A Part Of This...

2011-09-10T20:28:00.001-07:00

It Makes My Stomach Drop To Put This Out There...

2011-09-06T14:17:00.000-07:00

For 2 reasons. The first is that I realize I’m asking for something quite substantial. And secondly, I’m putting my 2012 intentions down in writing - that I want to be classified professional in the sport of triathlon. Though, I suppose in terms of relative ambition, it’s no more of a reach than when I set out to qualify for Kona in my first Ironman, back in Cozumel, back in November. So yeah, I want to go pro. Only a fool or half-asser wouldn’t try if they were in my same position.

I lost my latest sponsor at an inopportune moment of this season and friends have stepped up in about a thousand regards and counting to help put this on. One, I am eternally grateful and two, this is going to be the best class ever. 50$ is a lot for some, less for others. Give more, give less, whatever feels right. Just come.

RSVP to rideforreilly@gmail.com — space is limited, demand UNKNOWN

Now This Is Just Becoming Bullysome...

2011-09-05T10:07:00.001-07:00

Classic MacGruber...

2011-09-03T13:17:00.000-07:00

Genius all over the place. Embarrassment of riches. I love this movie.

For Once George, I Actually Feel You...

2011-09-01T14:45:00.000-07:00

Knocking George Lucas for fucking with Star Wars is on par with someone knocking Keanu Reeves' acting. I've always liked KR - brother held down a legit franchise. If you talk shit about Keanu, you're just an asshole riding on a wagon built by assholes. Refrain. Same thing holds true with George Lucas, though up until this point, I've had no defense for the guy. The creative choices he's made in updating his franchise have been nothing short of embarrassing. But then again, it's his franchise.

I fully expected to watch this clip, feel momentary disgust, and move swiftly on with my life. But that didn't happen. I actually...liked it. It gave me chills. Even after the thousand times I've seen Vader say nothing, after every line of this movie had been embedded into my childhood, this worked. I loved it. That's his fucking son, yo!!

Something To Love...

2011-08-31T15:25:00.000-07:00

I watched every episode of Bored To Death, week to week, during the first season. When the second season came along, I think I was wandering internationally, so lately I've been playing catch up. Everything I'm typing here is really being done just so I can take up space, to provide a base to launch into a rant about Ted Danson - about how perfect he is in this thing, in every scene and sense of the word. Only in episode 3, but that's all I need. I think it's important to talk about things like greatness, especially when surrounded by a cast nearly as great.

When I Think About This, It's Quite Beautiful...

2011-08-29T23:24:00.000-07:00

That there was a point in my life, not so long ago, absolutely and not for dramatic purposes, where I became convinced I was going to die before today, my 30th. The thought made me into everything I was, occupying obsession. Then it became something else, something literary, which will become something else, something literary, which will become something else, something literary. Right now I'm trying to think of a brilliant way to lead myself into saying something trite yet poignant like, "This is my life," but there I just said it, and exactly as I had hoped.

Soon, I'll meet the next one. Another thought, that is. I may have already.

And, We're On A Roll...

2011-08-19T15:22:00.001-07:00

Cannot Stop...

2011-08-18T17:12:00.000-07:00

Every time, so beyond any image they could put on screen. Just close your eyes.

Honestly, I Thought There Would Be More Kicking...

2011-08-18T11:42:00.000-07:00

Genius...

2011-08-16T13:20:00.001-07:00

Love This Town...

2011-08-15T22:26:00.001-07:00

On Leaving A Part Of My Heart In CamSur...

2011-08-09T16:02:00.000-07:00

Last year, almost to the day, I was getting evicted from my hotel in Naga City, Philippines. I had been there for about 2 weeks, training in a surprisingly great gym and out on the scorching roads and through the villages, living off oatmeal, almonds and boco. I was writing, constantly writing things that will afford me this lifestyle again, and soon. And, I was begging anyone, everyone to help me find a bike so that I could race in my first 70.3. It was an experience that stretched me deeply. It reached inside and showed me the depths of what a stranger I was, the depths of nothing working out the way I hoped it could before everything did. I’ll never forget it, any of it - the people, the smell, the hurt, the hope — and I’m not even talking about the race yet.

Eventually, two hours after the cut off for bike check, this mechanic Erik built me a bike in his alleyway shop in Naga City. I took a cab back to the complex, checked in, slept in a second hotel that deserves its own post, woke up, listened to the YouTube of Playing With Fire about 11 times before walking to the bus, before getting to the start line, racing on a bike with no shoes or pedal grip, blowing up on the run in 100 degree heat, drinking Cobra and stumbling across the line in a 5:29.

I’m seeing posts across the internet for this year’s version and I can feel something growing inside of me, some force asking why we’re not there again, to partake in another day that last year gave so, so much. It makes me sad not being there, and I never expected to feel that way. There’s something untouched and inspired about that part of the world, at the very least for a handful of moments, at least for me. Now, it’s something rooted inside, trying to drag me back. I have no doubt it will soon succeed.

This is my life. This is exactly how I want it to be.

Confession...

2011-08-05T11:52:00.001-07:00

To chase greatness in any field, sacrifices must be made. Last week, much to the dismay of my holy brethren, I cut off my wings. They simply don’t understand my desire. I cannot expect them to.

Still Special...

2011-08-04T09:50:00.001-07:00

Camp Volume...

2011-07-31T18:48:00.000-07:00

Been a big week of training. I understand fully what an opportunity it is to race in the World Championships for the 70.3 and full Ironman distance this fall, in September and October, in Vegas and Kona, and am absolutely taking advantage of it. Anything less would be disrespectful to the world — that’s the way I see it. If I’ve been dropping the names Vegas and Kona a lot, and continue to, it means I still haven’t gotten over it. I don’t plan to anytime soon. They are beautiful, awaiting monsters and need to be treated as such.

The big week led to an even bigger weekend. Now, let me state as a disclaimer that my training is my own. I’m not big on coaches or theory - I went through a lifetime of it in my first life when I had the makings of a million dollar pitching arm, and felt it slowly and painfully fall apart. I read every book, trained every muscle, listened to every theory and came away from it all with this perception that nobody knows anything. Now, that doesn’t mean I don’t follow the pros, and people I admire, and their coaches, and that doesn’t mean I still don’t immerse myself with an open mind — I guess what I’m saying is that I self prescribe training based on what my head and body tell me I need. Vegas is about 40 days away, Kona is about 30 days after that. To me, that means the bulk of my Kona training needs to happen now - at least distance wise. Starting this weekend and for the next 2 weeks, I need to battle through some heavy volume work. This weekend, volume meant 100 miles on the brutally windy PCH on Saturday followed by 17 miles running through the city on Sunday. A TYR bungee swim came before the Saturday ride and I went hard teaching spin classes before and after the Sunday run. I feel good. Been spending a lot of time in compression pants lately to try and give something back, and I think I’m sold - or at least sold on the potential that something is helping take care of my body without having to think about it.

Next weekend I was going to peak out on distance before coming back down to get back into speed before Vegas. I was thinking 120 on the bike, extra 10 up, extra 10 back, but think I’m going to call in a compromise - because I believe when you decide to beat up a body to chase an endeavor such as this, you must also listen to inspiration when it comes. The picture above is a sand dune at or around Point Mugu on the PCH - it’s at about the 40 mile point from my door, and inspiration says I need to trade those extra 40 miles on the bike for a couple runs up and down the dune’s softest face. Because that sounds fair, and beautiful, and inspired. Then run my 21 on Sunday.

Oh, California. What a portrait you paint. Such a darling.

A man a plan a canal panama...

2011-07-22T11:16:00.000-07:00

When I Start Thinking About How I Can Make Things Happen, they usually do. I’m starting to think about how much this will cost and who I can convince to sponsor me for 2012…or scrape it together. Or hope a certain movie is moving towards a certain production. Sounds a long ways away, Panama City - Panama. I ain’t talking Florida. But the non-stop is 600, and considering I paid 180 to rent a car, and another 150 on gas to get up and back from Vineman, it’s really not that much of a stretch. Plus, it’s South America (or practically), and will certainly serve to temporarily burn off my constant and aggressive need to commit wanderlust.

February 11th, 2012. Have a feeling I’ll be there, looking to win the motherfucker.

We Were Driving Together, Somewhere Near The Beginning...

2011-07-19T09:11:00.000-07:00

And talking about this and she didn't understand, saying things like but why would you write there, and put words out there if you don't actually want people to read them. I said she was inaccurate, that I didn't care if people read them or not, that the last thing I ever wanted was to engage anyone or convey a reach out, or make anyone ever believe they could reach back. I explained that the act itself served a purpose, for me, to move me along, or to simply write about the things that mattered to me, or affected me. At some point she mentioned how disappointed she would be if I ever wrote anything about her here, how disappointing it would be that I couldn't just say it myself. I understood that. I only come here when there's nothing left to say.

Friday, I left her and there was a voice telling me to end it. Because it was comfortable, and good. Because it was really good. Because I could see no end in sight. Because I've trained and triggered myself to behave in such a manner to be capable of loving something one day and then walk away from it the next. I didn't love her. But I could have. I would have eventually. Maybe that's why I didn't listen to the voice - there was a part of me that was ready for that. Maybe. When knowing friends asked me about her, this Girl, I would tell them I thought we would go a distance, that the irrational darting madness that often occupies me was stifled, and clearly accepting of her. They would smile and pet my head or shoulder.

It's Tuesday now. I feel like I got what I wanted, and that it's not at all what I wanted. She called last night to hit the brakes, and I got out. She hit the brakes. I do this thing in rare, anticipatory moments when something of feeling is coming at me, where I stand to meet it, to witness the full force of it. Last night, there was a turn in the conversation that stood me on my feet, the morbid excitement of never knowing what's really coming until it comes. No matter how much grace or trained composure I presume to have over the situation, I know a great force will always take me apart, and that it will be ultimately cold-blooded and fucking remorseless. When the time comes, my say is an illusion, and I know this. That's why as I stood to meet it, fists balled, I knew I was getting ready for a hopeless showdown.

I hung up and couldn't sleep, naturally. Around 3 AM, in a haze, I turned over to check my phone to see she had written. The e-mail was short and very dramatic and at first glance, I was actually insulted by it, not angry, but insulted by the frailty of everything that had happened between us - that in the end, we were as fleeting as anything. I was convinced we weren't. This morning I see the letter as something different, more of a gift - someone taking the time to let me know, in words and tones tailored for me to understand, that I was good. Hopefully, that will be enough.

Bravo K-Swiss...

2011-07-16T09:25:00.001-07:00

There Goes My Hero, Watch Him As He Goes...

2011-07-13T21:05:00.000-07:00

There Are Good Things Happening In The World...

2011-07-12T08:04:00.001-07:00

And good people behind them. The barrel scene...I almost fell out of my chair.

Race Week - Vineman 70.3/Racine 70.3…

2011-07-11T13:43:00.000-07:00

This is a special one. Back in November of 2010, when I made the trip down to Cozumel for my first Ironman, my dad met me. Apparently, something happened to him there, because as I’m leaving on Friday to go to Sonoma for the Vineman 70.3, he’s going to be getting ready for his very own 70.3 in Racine, his first triathlon. He’s run a good handful of marathons - I have early, early memories of watching him run Lake County as a kid, probably about the age I was in this picture, when the seed for all of this was probably first planted.

I remember the bags of questions I was asking before my first, and all the nerves I felt going in. They probably sent me to the internet, looking for tips I could devour on how to survive and survive well out there. Now that I have some races under my belt, I thought it might be time to give a little back, in honor of my old man and all first time or contemplating triathletes, here’s my own personal walk through, based on experience, for your enjoyment or confusion…

1. The alarm goes off and it’s early and you’re wondering what you’ve gotten yourself into. That’s fear. If you don’t feel it, you should. If you still don’t, I don’t know who you think you are - you’re about to race a 70.3. Fear is good. Fear accompanies the bold, and it will help you through.

2. You’ll arrive at transition. You’ll top off tires and lay out your gear and likely start a nervous conversation about what’s about to go down with someone stationed next to you. This usually helps, though be careful who you engage. The triathlon community has its share of lunatics and you don’t want Tom from Sheboygan attached to your hip for the rest of the morning. Or maybe you do?

3. Stop being so judgmental. I promise you’re a lunatic to someone else.

4. The sun will be coming up and the next thing you know, the race will have started. You’ll know this because people will be kicking at you and climbing over you and tearing at your goggles and forcing you to swallow water. But you will have imagined all of these things to happen well before race day. So whether they happen, or not, you will be ready. You’ll find a rhythm eventually, and some space, and realize you’re doing it, actually doing it. Beautiful feelings ensue. Allow them to. Be strong from here on.

5. Appreciate the land when you get there. Your body will wobble and feel unsteady. Know this, prepare for it so whether it happens, or not, you will be ready. Note repetitive themes in my prose. Prepare.

6. Take calories as soon as possible. I’m not going to touch nutrition because you should know. Take in a constant, gentle flow of calories. If you don’t do this, your body will eventually think you’re trying to kill it and will make you miserable. If you eat right, nothing about your day should be miserable. If things get miserable, slow a little, eat a little more. Allow the body to balance and recover, then press on.

7. The second leg of the race covers a long distance. That’s why you brought a bike. Ride the thing. Stop being afraid of the course. You’ve trained. Enjoy and push. Watch for ejected bottles and debris on the road and especially at aid stations. Once you cross halfway, push a little harder. You’ll know if you can. You can. Start to see the run in your mind. Crave it. Look forward to it. You’ve been running your whole life.

8. Get off that bike and move your legs. Turn them over and over. They will be heavy and sore, but they’ll adjust. Handle your shit and keep moving. Realize all you have is pavement in front of you - no more wetsuits, or bikes, or transitions. Remember 13.1 miles is a long way, but at least it’s not 26.2. Let the thought of brevity be propelling. Finish, and finish well.

9. Learn to believe in magic.

Been Dealing With This All Day...

2011-07-04T19:23:00.000-07:00

500 Days Of Summer is a very good movie. Special movie. I remember going to see it in the theater and leaving with the feeling that a train had run through me. Then I saw it again a couple days later. Same feeling happened. It came on last night and all I remembered was that I loved it, that I thought it was maybe the best movie that came out during its year, I think 09. So I watched, among other things, computer in lap. Then this scene started and I stopped everything I was doing...

Sometimes, art speaks to you so perfectly. You can't always explain it to yourself, but you can try. I do. I used to leave at night in high school after I got my license, drive loops around the streets because I couldn't sit still in my home. This has never changed. There was a girl like no other, and I was in love with her beyond anything I would ever be in love with, 16 years old and convinced there was nothing worth seeing outside of my north shore Chicago town of 20,000. I had her and then lost her, because she scared the hell out of me, and was in the process of fighting with all of my might and life to get her back. We'd talk on the phone and see each other in the halls and in class and every minute to me was magic and to her...

Her house was just off McKinley. Sometimes I'd turn down her street and drive past just to feel it, the energy of something I couldn't and can't explain. I don't know exactly where we were in the world when the day came that I'm about to falsely describe, but I felt close to her, closer than ever, and to getting my chance again. I want to say there was snow on the streets, and ice, and cold, and snow falling from the sky, maybe even a fucking blizzard when I drove past her house to see his car, and parked, and felt myself shatter from the inside. I drove another lap, maybe 12 miles, maybe crying most of the way before I drove past again, then again, first to confirm, then to feel it over and over. In the following weeks, the laps remained the same. Many of the nights held the same outcome. Eventually, I stopped crying. Eventually, it only hurt morbidly.

There were others, a couple others, but I think this one is all hers. Only absolute truth can grab hold of something like that, and shake and straighten 12 years later, something so protected as my winters back there, in Lake Forest. Only truth.

What They Said...

2011-07-04T10:31:00.000-07:00

Why Does This Make Me Root For Them To Lose??

2011-07-03T19:58:00.001-07:00

Oh that's right, because it's classless. And gross. Go USA!

Speed...

2011-06-29T17:49:00.000-07:00

I don’t like swimming. Or, it’s not that I don’t like swimming, but more getting up early to drive across town to a dingy pool, and paddling through my laps like a caged rat, swimming with assholes, assholes telling me how terrible my stroke is and that I should call them and pay them to fix it (Except Sergio, Sergio is a stud), showering in dingy locker rooms, taking hours out of my precious life to do something I grit my teeth and power through. I don’t like any of those things.

About a week ago, I was in bed and not sleeping and thinking about how I would design this contraption that would allow me to swim in place in my apartment pool. Then I looked it up and found TYR made one. Today, minutes ago, I tried it out for the first time. Perfect. You hook it up to anything outside of the pool, then to the belt around your waist, which is absolutely comfortable. Then, you get your ass kicked. Seriously, you absolutely get your ass kicked. Once you get away from the attachment, the elastic stretches and acts as a vicious current. It’s perfect for triathlon because it’s a power builder, no doubt about it, and though you can kick without obstruction, the arms have to motor. It’s violent, it’s tough, it’s just like open water swimming. I love it.

And of course, whenever I start to take myself too seriously, I think of this...

Are You Kidding??

2011-06-24T16:16:00.000-07:00

Because It's Magic...

2011-06-13T13:58:00.000-07:00

Let's Go Soft Core And Talk About The Rock...

2011-06-10T20:38:00.000-07:00

Fitting that a little time has passed since last Sunday, a little time to not get too caught up in the race, a little time to take a step back, realize that all I have is a lewd near nude post race photo to lead into how it went down. Fitting that I’m watching the movie on TNT right now, at the end of a quiet, ass-kicked week.

I had a strong race. Feels good to say that after getting stomped in St. George. I had arbitrary aims to finish in the top 100 after finishing around 250 last year out of around 2000. Came in at 103 overall. Something like 250 in the swim, 40 in the bike and 110 in the run. Overall, I took 10 minutes off last year’s time, which is significant on a course so short. It’s been a year since I began running triathlon and feel like I’ve come some way. Also, I’m beginning to see low numbers in my age group, like 3rd in the bike. Low numbers are good for the heart, good for seeing myself places in the future, like stumbling onto an eventual podium or reaching the world 70.3’s in Vegas, something I need to someday crack.

If I’m beginning to learn anything, it’s to let go of the fear. Fear of going into a race, fear of breaking down, fear of failing. Running always used to be my strength. Now, there’s soon to be a changing of the guard…if there hasn’t already been one. My experience is eventually going to level my times, that’s what I’m hoping. I think the day I find success is the day I find harmony between the three, and my understanding that I can hammer the swim and not fail the bike, hammer the bike and not fail the run, then hammer the run. This was a shorter race, 2:33, so it’s easy to talk composure. Still, I can feel my head shifting. I’ve been to ugly places now, and back (CamSur, Cozumel, St. George), and will continue to go to ugly places (Kona in October). Maybe someday I’ll become quite fast. Maybe not. In the meantime, there’s a 70.3 about 6 hours north of me called Vineman a couple weeks into July. I’m going to see if I can hammer for about 4.5, see how things hold up, see if my chin is still up at the end. It will be. I’m ready to fall in love with the 70.3.

Genius!

2011-06-01T11:26:00.000-07:00

Back To Alcatraz...

2011-05-30T15:11:00.000-07:00

Sometime around May of 2010, I was standing in the general manager’s office of Equinox Westwood. I had just gone through the employee time trial for a shot at winning an entry in the prestigious Escape From Alcatraz Triathlon. My bike wasn’t calibrated exactly right, and my overall time slid below the national top 25 that would have gotten me into the race. I was begging this guy to understand what I was saying, that I was completely screwed by the computer (which was very true), and even rode the leg again on another bike to prove it. I was begging him to do the right thing, because I deserved it, because I needed it, because I was convinced that racing Alcatraz would somehow change my life. Somehow, I got in.

It’s May again and I’m about to go back to Alcatraz, the very thing that started it all. This year, to make damn certain there was no confusion on my invite, I somehow pulled in the Equinox National #1 time the night before the LA Marathon. That means a couple of things. First, after some TOUGH races, it was nice to see my name next to a number like that. Second, and far more important, it means that everyone I beat is hopefully saying something to themselves like I’m going to beat THAT fucker, especially the guy who lost by 1 second. I hope he’s pissed. I hope I can find him out there, shake his hand and then battle him. Honestly, all I’ve ever wanted to be in this world is THAT fucker, so it should be a fun, fast race. I need one. I’m really looking forward to it.

My whole life, I’ve been a somewhat high level athlete, but an athlete second. There has always been something else driving, something else incendiary inside. In the past, I’ve looked back on stretches of my life and deemed them not acceptable against the standards I’ve set before destroying my collected comfort by stepping into new worlds, usually about a dozen at a time, before returning, winding my clock, and starting anew. I mention this because Alcatraz has made me peek over my shoulder, wrap the year into a single box, and examine. It’s been a serious 12 months.

But I don't support indulgent satisfaction. Or falling off. Ever.

The Reason Arctic Monkeys Slam The Door On Book #1...

2011-05-25T15:46:00.001-07:00

This Girl...

2011-05-23T12:55:00.000-07:00

Again with the fascination. It's all I can think of this week or all that's reaching me. Completely surprised and then not at all. Jealous of NYC for a night. Then, go listen to 1-12 of Actor.

Fascinating...

2011-05-19T10:00:00.000-07:00

Dear SNL...

2011-05-18T12:35:00.000-07:00

Fallon made cameo last week in the extraordinary live action Ambiguously Gay Duo. So clearly, this is in the playbook. You don't have to say anything, but please, please tell me you're rehearsing Barry Gibb right now with JT back in the saddle for the season finale. You don't have to say anything, but please. It would make my week.

Why You're Playing College Baseball At Radford And High Point...

2011-05-17T22:19:00.001-07:00

It's Not What You Think!

2011-05-13T19:57:00.000-07:00

It's About Time Someone Put Charlie Day In An Actual Movie...

2011-05-12T11:05:00.000-07:00

Might Be Here...

2011-05-09T21:50:00.000-07:00

I'm Finished...

2011-05-08T22:03:00.000-07:00

There's a large chunk of this video that's cut out. I bitch a bit about the course, about not being able to breathe, the wind, the heat. Then I go on to talk about how Kona is going to be my last full Ironman. I ended up taking all of that out. It all seems so trivial now, even as I was saying it. There was a distinct point somewhere in that run, where I was more defeated than I have ever been in my life, more broken than I have ever been, where it felt like something fell from me, like I let something go that would have otherwise tormented me for breaking down, for not being stronger, for not finishing higher. It's not here. Wasn't this morning, or last night. I don't think it will ever be here again. If that's true, then what I'm taking away from St. George is so big, it's nearly unspeakable. I've been gone for 3 days and it feels like months. Sometimes people ask me why I do what I do - any race, but in this case, a 2.4/112/26.2. Because without bullshit, a single day shows me exactly who I am. Because I cried a little bit for every person I saw finish that race, because I knew.

Here We Go, Almost...

2011-05-07T02:24:00.000-07:00

3:27 in the AM and I've got my boy BF here, nearly running on repeat. Things are looking good. The world is outside, and waiting. The day is waiting. I feel like there's a dame outside my door, waiting to take my hand and show me everything that's anything. I'm going to make her wait for another hour because I'm primadonna, but also because when I walk out that door, the gloves have to come fucking off. And I need to breathe just a little bit longer.

So Utah...

2011-05-05T23:05:00.000-07:00

It sort of feels like there's nothing here in St. George, and that it goes on forever. Tonight, I was driving part of the course after the sun had set and everything was glowing. Then, I just started screaming. That's what it's like here. I'm going to try and find that tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and then I'll go back to California, and remember how simple my life really is, knowing all I'm ever after is something that makes me scream.

Fuck Week...

2011-05-02T22:22:00.001-07:00

NPR is streaming Okkervil River's new album. This is the second time I've made it through today. Love them, not yet sure if it's better than really good. There's all this shit on my desktop, motorcycle insurance and appointments and academic articles I write because I'm a false fucking whore. Tomorrow morning, I have to go into the DMV, then I have to run, have to sit in the sun, have to let my skin strengthen and burn and grow confident under this suddenly scorching California. I got a call today from someone trying to make my man-u into a movie, who told me about some big swinger in some faraway city who is afraid of my truth, afraid to take my hand, afraid I will break her bones. No, she won't even look into my eyes and it's making me fire, and it's making something recently dormant inside of me agitate. The seams aren't splitting like they used to, instead resilient, expanding and stretching as I breathe weighted, obscene, absurd breath. Everything about this feels so fucking absurd. Everything about me, this week. Hopefully not next. Thursday, I'm driving to Utah. Saturday, I'm running the Ironman and I feel flat, controlled. I feel strong, like I can see him, the Devil, looking at me, hands already tight in white tape. His clout is fading. I'm going to take him by the throat and pin him against the ground, drool and spit rage all over his face. I'll tell him these things, speak my peace then let him up, before I ask him to take my hand and show me what's next and where to wander and where to not fear the fall. He is my friend, sometimes my mentor, often misunderstood as vile. Only when he returns do I realize how much I've missed, the depth of my responsibility. Someone's hand is on my face, holding it, a girl. I'm not dismantling her for trying. There is no desire. There's a ring on my finger that won't come off. It means more to me than anything. It has to always. The streets are too many, my remaining steps too few.

Tarsem...

2011-04-27T09:05:00.000-07:00

If you haven't seen The Fall, go out and see it. For me, one of the most affecting movies I've seen in a long time. That's why when the trailer for the director's next comes out, I jump on it, because this guy is a one of a kind talent.

And I see the images and the movement that's recognizable Tarsem, and then see it tied to 300, which is an understandable marketing angle, and I see name actors, and then I see the lead who is going to be the next Superman...appear strained, and I begin to wonder if the finer work is behind us. Of course, my ability lately to peg trailers has been less than keen. So I'll remain hopeful. If ever there was a movie for a midnight show, this is it. Still, I couldn't drop "genius" as the title to this post, and we all know how much I like to do that.

Genius...

2011-04-22T11:51:00.000-07:00

Can we talk about how amazing it is to be able to grab clips from shows on Hulu, like Chris Pratt on Parks and Recreation, who I've been saying to myself for some time is a comic genius, and physically gifted, and drop it here. Love that. Love this show, everything about it. The cast is so good, it makes me tired even thinking of a way to describe it, so I'm not going to. But this dude just kills me...

Holy Shit They Just Let Me Into Kona!

2011-04-15T12:39:00.000-07:00

That’s exactly what it felt like when I read the e-mail after class, me as Chuck and running up and down the street in Santa Monica, looking for someone who would understand exactly what it meant - to be allowed to race in Kona - to get ripped by the course I’ve seen rip through contenders as far back as I can remember, sitting on a couch and watching the race unfold on some calm, lazy December day, helplessly crying and crying because I couldn’t take it, because I was so inspired by it - the sight of bodies crumbling and failing and enduring, utter destruction and triumph of the human spirit. It was always so beautiful to me. Now I’m going there, to participate in it. It’s breaking me now, just typing this…

I think it’s important to say this on paper — even though I’m not going to Kona on a qualification (though I’m not ruling that out in St. George May 9th), at some point in the last year, I went to bed thinking that only in my wildest dreams would I be able to compete in both Boston and Kona in the same year, THIS year. Only in my wildest dreams. And now here we ar

For The Heart...

2011-04-14T09:35:00.001-07:00

I Have A Feeling This Is Going To Change Things...

2011-04-11T10:18:00.001-07:00

Heroic...

2011-04-10T20:05:00.000-07:00

Chris Lilley, We've Missed You...

2011-04-06T08:17:00.000-07:00

If you trust me, which you should, then you need to know Summer Heights High was a mostly unseen phenomenon. If you saw Summer Heights High, then this is just good to see. There's also an 8 minute teaser floating around here, but in this case, we'll stick to brevity.

This Really Needs To Be Everywhere...

2011-04-02T13:06:00.000-07:00

Holy. Fucking. Shit. Yes...

2011-04-01T12:08:00.000-07:00

Oh Man, Do I Heart Keira Knightley...

2011-03-29T22:33:00.000-07:00

Not much else to say about that. Bravo Chanel, once again. I want to buy your scent, and drink it.

I'm Fairly Skeptical Of Buzz...

2011-03-28T21:58:00.000-07:00

Even more skeptical of free buzz, but this makes me feel like I'm in the presence of real deal, and I like that. Click to get, take you away. Yeah, that's a Beach House sample. Yeah, style.

Time To Pick A Fight...

2011-03-23T22:38:00.001-07:00

Hey bro, how's it going? You cool? Cool. November 28th, yeah that was your day and that day wasn't so long ago, was it? Let me just come out and say something before I say a lot of other things, that we are all proud of what you did that day, your first Ironman. Congratulations. If that's what you want to hear, you can fucking have it. Take it, put it in your pocket, pull it out any time you need to jerk off by celebrating your own mediocrity. You'll never fool me. And seriously, if victory like that is victory you want to hang onto, please just dig a grave and put yourself in it. Stop distracting the world from the alarmingly short supply of genuine, inspired effort.

I am going to destroy you in every sense of the word. There's a race coming up in May, in St. George, Utah, another full Ironman. You're not running it anymore, I am. You were so afraid. You trained afraid, swam afraid, biked afraid, ran afraid. You were an embarrassment. You didn't understand what I fully do, that it's better to fall apart than fail to compete. I will die before I become you again. That's a promise.

You are the skin I've pulled off and left behind. Someday, and soon, you and all your shed friends will be sitting at a bar and you'll be pointing at me, telling them you used to be me, that I wouldn't be what I am without you. That'll be your story and I'll be charging on, always charging on. Tomorrow when those sheets are lifted, something new and brutal and beautiful begins.

Also, fuck you.

I Feel Like This Next One Is Going To Be Special...

2011-03-22T10:32:00.001-07:00

Doesn't come out until May 3rd, but they're releasing tracks in what seems to be a steady stream. The album will probably at the very least be streaming by mid-April. They're coming by the Palladium soon after that. Hopefully then the summer rush will start, and everyone will start to creep from the woodwork, and nights will be made that I'll want to write about here, because that's all any of this is really ever about anyway.

You Know What They Say...

2011-03-16T19:13:00.001-07:00

Just because you can make a movie doesn't mean you should. And by they, I mean I. That's what I'm saying...

So It Begins...

2011-03-14T17:43:00.000-07:00

Race week. First of 2011, ending with the Los Angeles Marathon this sunday. Not trying to sound worldly, or maybe I am, but after running races in Indonesia (Oly Tri), Philippines (70.3), Thailand (Tribe to Tribe Marathon) and Mexico (Ironman) over the course of the last year, it’s going to be pretty nice to line up for a home town race, even nicer to eat somewhere local after, relax and sleep at home after that. I’m already getting fired up, like all that comfort post race means I have to chase something uber brutal during because I don’t have to get on a plane right after…or sleep with cockroaches…or share the backseat of a winding bus in 100 degree heat for 5 hours with 5 Thai teens, no water, willing away vomit and dehydration and coma the entire time.

I love this city. Love almost everything about it. Even our promos are damn amazing. What other city in the world would you see a promo like this.?.?.?

Super 8...

2011-03-11T11:22:00.000-08:00

Abrams and Spielberg. I don't think there is anything better than that. Also, seeing this makes me envy children. Nothing makes me envy children. June.

Voice...

2011-03-10T09:29:00.001-08:00

Zach G...

2011-03-09T08:45:00.001-08:00

You Know That Thing That Happens When You Wake Up In The Morning, Pick Up Your Phone To Read An Unrecognized E-Mail...

2011-03-06T19:47:00.001-08:00

And it breaks you down and makes you cry, actually shed tears because it brings you back to a place and moment and behavior you left far behind, under distant circumstances and states of heart and spirit...that makes you feel like you have to be better, always, because the moments you spend at your absolute worst will come back and face you, always, and from those moments, the only thing returned to you is undeserved love, making you hurt and hurt bad? I didn't either.

Hi i am karu from akurala sri lanka

friend the story you have uploaded to the you tube is very interesting and you have presented it well with great videos that you have recorded.
It was a great pleasure to me to have a chapter in your story about me and the tour I did for you specially about our small village's beautiful beach,that you were attracted.
And when the family members saw that they were so happy.And when they saw your picture they identified as the USA friend who wrote stories on a small yellow book sitting on the red chair of our home.I will mail you again dear.

Genius...

2011-03-01T08:32:00.001-08:00

My Boy Derrick Rose...

2011-02-24T18:51:00.000-08:00

Surprised to find myself watching NBA basketball on a thursday night. Maybe because I'm a Chicago boy, and the Bulls are playing LeDoucheBron James and his Miami Heat at home. I've come to admire Derrick Rose so much. So much. Brother is all guts, all grit, wickedly talented, humble, proud, tenacious. You ever read a book and feel like you're getting better as a person just by being exposed to it? I feel like that watching Derrick Rose - not just the way he plays, but also how he behaves. You ever been out drinking all night, like 25 drinks, the next morning finding your clothes covered in shit, body in bruises, eye split open from some Marine breaking your head on the sidewalk before experiencing the feeling of having to drink a beer or shot to stop your thoughts on wanting to die right then and there? I feel like that watching LeBron James.

Am I unfounded? Start this next one at 2:15. Watch the parade of clowns end on two Chicago boys, Rose and Dwayne Wade. Pure class. I'm trying to not be the guy who says Bird, Jordan and Barkley would have never put up with shit like we see today...but Bird, Jordan and Barkley would have never put up with shit like we see today. The world would not have. There's a whole generation coming where men in positions that used to hold reins are children. They will not go far.

Thom Yorke, We Fucking Love You...

2011-02-23T09:51:00.000-08:00

Lia Ices...

2011-02-21T16:07:00.001-08:00

Yeah yeah just what I need - another sickly beautiful songbird to fall in love with. Just what I need...and a director who approaches her pre-shoot saying something like, "Yeah, so people are going to resent you out of the gate because you're talented and beautiful, so what I'm going to do is hide you in blurs, and behind branches and leaves, and get so abstract when the song drops that they literally won't know who you are...you know, so that your music, your beautiful music can actually stand a chance." My quotes, not actual. On repeat...

The Process of Genius...

2011-02-17T09:35:00.000-08:00

New Radiohead Out Saturday...

2011-02-15T10:19:00.001-08:00

No single, no tracklist, just coming soon to a website near you. Style.

Stefon, You Will Always Have A Home Here...

2011-02-14T08:29:00.000-08:00

It's Hard To Be The Queen Of Things...

2011-02-11T16:32:00.001-08:00

Because people are going to expect so, so much all the time. And when that happens, they'll hear a good single off a big album and say things like, I remember that sound back when it was called Express Yourself, unless that's an obvious nod on her part, which at this point I wouldn't really understand anyway. Still good. Kinda feel it. But okay, when you say things like, "This is going to be the new gay anthem," which is sort of like going "H.A.M," which we already talked about, and try to control people's reactions in a world growing increasingly more into a fuck the machine, machine...good luck. Really, good luck.

The Los Angeles Zoo...

2011-02-04T11:26:00.000-08:00

Every now and then, I'd find some kids to talk to about something, because I'm a ranter, and because otherwise no one would have been there to hear all of the wildly hilarious and witty and intellectual observations I would make about the animals. It wouldn't take long before a supervisor, or employee, or parent would approach, take a child or children by the hand, and lead them away. Then they would look back, over their shoulder, eyes on me.

Actually, it wasn't like that at all.

Honestly, it was a half dozen single moms having an afternoon with their young children, their young children following me, eyes on me, stalking me, minds of the moms saying, yeah...I wish he was your daddy too. More like that.

Speaking Of...

2011-02-03T15:24:00.000-08:00

First images of Walter Salles' On The Road have been circling today. First glance, something about this just doesn't feel right. Maybe because about a week ago, we were talking about actual Kerouac writing actual Brando to make this movie. Now, 50 years later, here it comes with Garrett Hedlund and Sam Riley as Dean and Sal. And yeah, that's Kristen Stewart in on another "let's go looking for the faded relevance of an old classic, but today." Is it strange to anyone else that the people most profoundly affected by this book are either dead or disconnected from this generation's actors? This is an objective stance, mind you, because I like Kristen Stewart, and Garrett Hedlund, and Sam Riley, and Walter Salles, whose Motorcycle Diaries is incredibly precursor to this...so it all makes sense. Everything makes sense...but it doesn't feel quite right. I took On The Road for what it was when I read it, a visit. It's sitting on my shelf, and I would have no problem visiting it again. This isn't my rebellion against something. It's not that. To be quite honest, of course I'm going to see this movie. But something here feels abused...

Two Great Movies...

2011-02-03T09:16:00.000-08:00

Missed these until now, as they were summer circles, I think, and in the summer, I was in places they could not make it to. It's been a movie week this week. Also pretty big on the Joaquin Phoenix - I'm Still Here. But these are both high Netflix 4 stars, very high. It's good to see truth again in movies, and back to back. Nothing like good indie. Nothing like bad indie. This stuff is excellent times 2.

Harvey Keith...

2011-02-02T13:39:00.000-08:00

When I worked at Mozza, there was a guy who used to come and sit at the far end of the bar, by the wall. He liked me because I "got it," because wine for him was always "on the arm," and because I refused his tips (Not trying to sound generous, just trying to not sound like I was pulling a scam). He taught me a lot about life, mostly his, and always kept things moving. Since I left, we meet up for a bite every couple of weeks. Sometimes tough company, he is absolutely unique, and rare, and the kind of company that can not be replicated. He told me this video was online. The director is a fucking moron, I can not say this enough, because I could not think it enough as I was watching. Don't let him distract you from the gems, because there are plenty. There are plenty.