I’m a relatively visible figure in my community – at least enough that my Facebook posts show up fairly often in others’ feeds – and I felt I should do something with that. So I’ve been trying to collate concrete “next steps” for everyone who was dismayed with the results of last night’s election.
I’m not an expert in much of this, but this is my attempt to synthesize as much information as possible and make a difference.
Her: “I can’t believe you like [that actor].” Or “[that TV show].” Or “[that song].”
How many times have I been on this first date?
Sometimes she’s a librarian. Sometimes a homebody. Always with the hierarchy. TV lowest. Movies lowish. Books above it all.
Life’s disappointed her. Sometimes her family has. Sometimes her job has. Eventually I will, too.
Sometimes I fail as a platonic ideal. Sometimes I can’t be platonic.
I say artistry is difficult. Good taste is like a good compass. It gives you direction, but can’t help you climb a mountain.
She’s never been one for mountaineering.
(this was a piece of 100-word flash fiction I wrote years back and never published. I’m up late, can’t sleep, figured I’d polish it up and put it online)
Coming soon, $1.50 a pop. Physical or digital. Leave a comment if you want a copy.
For the past month or so, I’ve been helping out with Mindshare LA‘s spinoff group, Synn Labs to put together what I believe is one of the best music videos of all time.
It’s available to see now: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qybUFnY7Y8w
For reference, I’m actually in the video at the end.
That’s me.
Yeah, I’m not exactly writing these things in detail, I know. I don’t want this blog to be a 5th grader “How I spent my summer vacation” essay, with a list of events in chronological order, punctuated with the occasional “and then.”
So, Madrid.
The title of this post is a literal translation of Yukiko’s name. I’ve posted off-and-on about her, but this post is to tie all that up — and really, so I don’t forget, cause god knows I’ve got a shitty memory.
Linked by Warren Ellis, it’s the touching true story of a man who bought a monkey just so he could fight it.
Okay, here we go. Fixed comments, can use the damn system again, looks like. I hope. All old comments are gone, but what the hey.
So, to start things off, a dream I had recently:
I wake up on the Joban line train, right as they’re announcing Sanuki station, my stop. It’s early morning, and I’m sleepy as hell, so I know that I must have been out in Tokyo clubbing or something. I stumble out into the early morning, into a sea of headphoned salarymen. The sun is still low in the sky, making me squint, giving me a slight headache. I’m not limber enough to bound up the stairs with any grace, so I’m plodding along, my feet heavy. I get up to the turnstiles, and they seem much further away than they usually do. It’s like a dolly-zoom shot from a Hitchcock movie. I reach for my wallet, take it out, and I can’t find my rail pass. I’m standing in the thick of things, and people are whizzing by on either side of me. The crowd thins, and I’m there, alone, and I can’t get out of the station and back home. And then I wake up.
My first thoughts were, goddamnit subconscious, you’re not even TRYING to be subtle anymore.
So, I’m doing 2.5 weeks of travel by myself across Asia before heading back to the States. Already hit up Korea (South and technically North), in Thailand right now, and going to Cambodia, Vietnam, and Laos before it’s all said and done with. How’s it been? Let me tell you!
So I’ve been a complete wreck for something like 2 months now and haven’t posted at all. Mea culpa. Here’s the lowdown.