Precise compilation of style and distinction, no questions. No sudden movement or unexpected moments of surprise... nothing surprising.
Pretty girl rolls her arm around the back of pretty boy. Swept hair pulls perfectly across a forehead. Perfection.. Everybody is perfect.
Drink another beer my friend and make up a song, for she's not for you, they're too precise with their movements and wit, their dirt placed for purpose, their hair long by choice. They've never seen the wild, and they don't need it. Nor does it need them.
But the fury drowns your heart, in their perfection you sour and burst and repeat. For there is no way, and all you can see are plastic bottles in a landfill.
Sweat it off my friend, drink your beer and let the din ad buses bring you home.
You still don't belong, and that's sweet irony. Love it
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Pleasures
My pleasures.
1) Sitting in front of my computer for hours on end constructing a movie from my own homemade footage. It's like a puzzle, a game, full of twists and surprises and realizations. I love it!
2) Working. I absolutely love going to work, the daily journey of it, the feeling of satisfaction when you've accomplished each working goal knowing that your reward is both helping others and the "fruit" of money that you harvest by doing so.
3) Eating food.
4) Wilderness. There is no pleasure like standing on a rock's top and gazing out over the vastness of a countryside or mountain range. It fills me with a life that you can't find anywhere else. Have you been to the Grand Canyon's northern rim and looked out over the place? It's that feeling, only exemplified through any detached-from-humanity-while-in-nature experience.
5) Rivers. The best metaphor. I don't care which, it could run under a bridge through downtown Los Angeles and it still offers me pleasure. Rivers make me hopeful, they suggest that even in the thickest experience the water still flows away from a source and closer to a destination. They're our most organic examples: we live and flow from a source through rocks, canyons, valleys, eddys, dirt, but never stop. That's key.
6) Large Crowds. There aren't many who love the loud ugly fury of a large crowd of people. I prefer when there's not a commonality, like a concert or something, and it's just a huge amount of people wandering around in one area. Like a grocery store, or a bar, etc. Ecstacy!
7) Kissing. Nature's purified pleasure. I say no more.
8) Confrontations. As much as I always want to be right, I get sick pleasure from somebody disagreeing with me. It opens a door for communication, allowing a conversation and worlds of entertainment to unfold. The people closest to me are the people that argue with me. Hands down.
9) Rafting. It's like Christmas but better. Because you anticipate Christmas for a month, and then it's usually kind of a buzzkill. But with rafting, the buzz only heightens once you're finally out on the river, plotting your routine descent through Fowlers or setting up some crazy girl to "ride the bull" through Hospital Bar.
10) That moment before Action, or your "Cue". This is one time a stage actor and a camera actor are the same. You take one final breath, flash-review your mindset, and fully commit to being a new version of yourself. Of course, if you've done your homework the transition should be minimal to zilch. But regardless, there's a rush of pleasure in it.. like jumping from sun-bathed rock into a river in the sun: your insides are reminded that your outsides are in charge, and you smile and jump.
The higher the rock, the bigger your smile.
Penultimate conquering of the self. My Beowulf existence.
That's enough for now. Obviously there are many more,
but these struck me this morning.
Mikie
1) Sitting in front of my computer for hours on end constructing a movie from my own homemade footage. It's like a puzzle, a game, full of twists and surprises and realizations. I love it!
2) Working. I absolutely love going to work, the daily journey of it, the feeling of satisfaction when you've accomplished each working goal knowing that your reward is both helping others and the "fruit" of money that you harvest by doing so.
3) Eating food.
4) Wilderness. There is no pleasure like standing on a rock's top and gazing out over the vastness of a countryside or mountain range. It fills me with a life that you can't find anywhere else. Have you been to the Grand Canyon's northern rim and looked out over the place? It's that feeling, only exemplified through any detached-from-humanity-while-in-nature experience.
5) Rivers. The best metaphor. I don't care which, it could run under a bridge through downtown Los Angeles and it still offers me pleasure. Rivers make me hopeful, they suggest that even in the thickest experience the water still flows away from a source and closer to a destination. They're our most organic examples: we live and flow from a source through rocks, canyons, valleys, eddys, dirt, but never stop. That's key.
6) Large Crowds. There aren't many who love the loud ugly fury of a large crowd of people. I prefer when there's not a commonality, like a concert or something, and it's just a huge amount of people wandering around in one area. Like a grocery store, or a bar, etc. Ecstacy!
7) Kissing. Nature's purified pleasure. I say no more.
8) Confrontations. As much as I always want to be right, I get sick pleasure from somebody disagreeing with me. It opens a door for communication, allowing a conversation and worlds of entertainment to unfold. The people closest to me are the people that argue with me. Hands down.
9) Rafting. It's like Christmas but better. Because you anticipate Christmas for a month, and then it's usually kind of a buzzkill. But with rafting, the buzz only heightens once you're finally out on the river, plotting your routine descent through Fowlers or setting up some crazy girl to "ride the bull" through Hospital Bar.
10) That moment before Action, or your "Cue". This is one time a stage actor and a camera actor are the same. You take one final breath, flash-review your mindset, and fully commit to being a new version of yourself. Of course, if you've done your homework the transition should be minimal to zilch. But regardless, there's a rush of pleasure in it.. like jumping from sun-bathed rock into a river in the sun: your insides are reminded that your outsides are in charge, and you smile and jump.
The higher the rock, the bigger your smile.
Penultimate conquering of the self. My Beowulf existence.
That's enough for now. Obviously there are many more,
but these struck me this morning.
Mikie
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
On a train
Sitting in a seat facing the city night on my Hollywood train. I just spent the last half hour through the subway tunnels to put myself at Union Station, the Magnificent. If you haven't traveled around LA publicly yet, it's an endearing journey to undertake, every time. There are some of the most mentally and socially unaware or confused people in transit with you, heading wherever their same destinations will allow.
But as the doors close and the robot man speaks your next location, I can only marvel at how we're all in this together.
There are people living and feeling and struggling in this world in such ways that you couldn't imagine in the slightest until you're siting next to him or her listening to the tears or rants or giggly sourness from the source.
I've never been someone to disengage myself from humanity. There are some situations that people place themselves in that are more dangerous or unsanitary than I'd prefer to handle, but it's with the knowledge that I'm no better off, and actually too scared to take the risks that they've clearly taken. But how many people choose to neither expose themselves to nor acknowledge these people, people like you and me but with almost fuller existences because of their trouble..
Yesterday on the bus I saw a 12 year old redhead with double the street smarts that I've ever had. Tonight I met a kid who lives in Inglewood but works in Burbank and says if it weren't for the LA trains, he would never have been able to see the big possible world beyond his closer home. I meet people that live and love in clueless abandon, and then the uber rich and invincible who have a wealthy hand in everybody's souls and pocketbooks, drinking their head into oblivion because of it.
I'm here too. Somehow I fit in, maybe in my lacking. A kid from somewhere and going somewhere, but watching while I'm here. And like everybody on this train I'm not like anybody else..
I'm just glad I'm not of the niche who smokes crack for fun (like the shouting guy next to me). Thanks gods, for keeping me in the clear on that one
But as the doors close and the robot man speaks your next location, I can only marvel at how we're all in this together.
There are people living and feeling and struggling in this world in such ways that you couldn't imagine in the slightest until you're siting next to him or her listening to the tears or rants or giggly sourness from the source.
I've never been someone to disengage myself from humanity. There are some situations that people place themselves in that are more dangerous or unsanitary than I'd prefer to handle, but it's with the knowledge that I'm no better off, and actually too scared to take the risks that they've clearly taken. But how many people choose to neither expose themselves to nor acknowledge these people, people like you and me but with almost fuller existences because of their trouble..
Yesterday on the bus I saw a 12 year old redhead with double the street smarts that I've ever had. Tonight I met a kid who lives in Inglewood but works in Burbank and says if it weren't for the LA trains, he would never have been able to see the big possible world beyond his closer home. I meet people that live and love in clueless abandon, and then the uber rich and invincible who have a wealthy hand in everybody's souls and pocketbooks, drinking their head into oblivion because of it.
I'm here too. Somehow I fit in, maybe in my lacking. A kid from somewhere and going somewhere, but watching while I'm here. And like everybody on this train I'm not like anybody else..
I'm just glad I'm not of the niche who smokes crack for fun (like the shouting guy next to me). Thanks gods, for keeping me in the clear on that one
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Comrades of the night
Yesterday was a different Hollywood experience. It felt more like a battleground, and me and my fellow valets were militant soldiers defending our precious Hotel Property from the wiles of menacing party-goers.
I got to the hotel to work at 8pm after a nice long drive down the river of Highway 110, from Pasadena. Not much stood out on the drive, the lights were the same as usual, the city hung high on my nearby horizon like a lit castle, the freeways were scattered with cars, and down the darkness of the Yucca St, alleyway I arrived and found a little parking spot to sink my Kia into.
Getting to work was bland as well..in fact I hardly recall it. I changed in the stairwell, as usual and pulled open the door to the office, pursued by welcome greetings from all.. I get a lot of "Mikie!" when I show up.
Then lightning struck the place, and we got REALLY busy.
And so the story goes. Between the hours of 8pm and 4am I ran and turned keys, drove expensive machines beneath pipes and cement, reversed Porsches into tight spots, turned Merecedes up garage corners, cranked Audi engines, bumbled in old Toyotas, sailed in new Escalades, handed off keys to millionaires and virtually kept to myself for the most of the night.
I guess the only good stories happened with my Comrades at work. One time our line of Ferraris and Mercedes and Priuses was all backed up into the garage because some superdrunk rich ditz-woman was having it out with her drunk-faced douchy boyfriend up top. While waiting, we valets looked like a line of stuck traffic on a city highway. So we all jumped out of our drivers' doors and started yelling at each other in thick eastern accents, throwing our hands up and pointing and shouting in exasperated broken English. It was pretty funny, and Andy pointed out we should make a movie of that exact setting.
Another golden moment was when at the top of our drive an uber-drunk Jersey-shore-esque couple of guys started pounding on each others' faces over some nasty girl in a tight white butt-cheek-bearing dress. There was blood, and soon enough the two we on the ground in handcuffs while us valets watched on with huge satisfied grins.. eventually an ambulance came and the circus was removed.
I guess the wrap-up of the night was really where I started to feel like things were pretty cool. We all got cut (sent home) at around 4 o'clock, so after changing upstairs a group of us headed outside the hotel to chill while Amanda and Izalia (our two pretty lady cashiers) waited for their ride. A guy walked up and not-so-shadily asked if we wanted to buy Zanex for $2 a pill - then reared his head in as if he knew something nobody knew and whispered "they're not really Zanex" as if that would sway our decision - and we turned him down. Last thing you know, me, Fish, Jeremy and Andy were walking up Argyle street perpendicular to Hollywood Blvd, back to our cars, talking from our chests. Andy has a skateboard and peaced out to head to his nearby apartment. Fish and Jeremy walked with me to my car so that I wouldn't be alone in the night on Yucca St. to see if my car would start. It did, and soon I was rolling back through the drawn night up Highway 110 to Pasadena, alone on a river paddling upstream to my home.
So ended a long and satisfying night of work. I found out that I'm getting paid $11.55 an hour now, which is two dollars more than when I started.
And Daniel leaves today. That's been an adventure in and of itself.
Farewell gentle people
Mikie
I got to the hotel to work at 8pm after a nice long drive down the river of Highway 110, from Pasadena. Not much stood out on the drive, the lights were the same as usual, the city hung high on my nearby horizon like a lit castle, the freeways were scattered with cars, and down the darkness of the Yucca St, alleyway I arrived and found a little parking spot to sink my Kia into.
Getting to work was bland as well..in fact I hardly recall it. I changed in the stairwell, as usual and pulled open the door to the office, pursued by welcome greetings from all.. I get a lot of "Mikie!" when I show up.
Then lightning struck the place, and we got REALLY busy.
And so the story goes. Between the hours of 8pm and 4am I ran and turned keys, drove expensive machines beneath pipes and cement, reversed Porsches into tight spots, turned Merecedes up garage corners, cranked Audi engines, bumbled in old Toyotas, sailed in new Escalades, handed off keys to millionaires and virtually kept to myself for the most of the night.
I guess the only good stories happened with my Comrades at work. One time our line of Ferraris and Mercedes and Priuses was all backed up into the garage because some superdrunk rich ditz-woman was having it out with her drunk-faced douchy boyfriend up top. While waiting, we valets looked like a line of stuck traffic on a city highway. So we all jumped out of our drivers' doors and started yelling at each other in thick eastern accents, throwing our hands up and pointing and shouting in exasperated broken English. It was pretty funny, and Andy pointed out we should make a movie of that exact setting.
Another golden moment was when at the top of our drive an uber-drunk Jersey-shore-esque couple of guys started pounding on each others' faces over some nasty girl in a tight white butt-cheek-bearing dress. There was blood, and soon enough the two we on the ground in handcuffs while us valets watched on with huge satisfied grins.. eventually an ambulance came and the circus was removed.
I guess the wrap-up of the night was really where I started to feel like things were pretty cool. We all got cut (sent home) at around 4 o'clock, so after changing upstairs a group of us headed outside the hotel to chill while Amanda and Izalia (our two pretty lady cashiers) waited for their ride. A guy walked up and not-so-shadily asked if we wanted to buy Zanex for $2 a pill - then reared his head in as if he knew something nobody knew and whispered "they're not really Zanex" as if that would sway our decision - and we turned him down. Last thing you know, me, Fish, Jeremy and Andy were walking up Argyle street perpendicular to Hollywood Blvd, back to our cars, talking from our chests. Andy has a skateboard and peaced out to head to his nearby apartment. Fish and Jeremy walked with me to my car so that I wouldn't be alone in the night on Yucca St. to see if my car would start. It did, and soon I was rolling back through the drawn night up Highway 110 to Pasadena, alone on a river paddling upstream to my home.
So ended a long and satisfying night of work. I found out that I'm getting paid $11.55 an hour now, which is two dollars more than when I started.
And Daniel leaves today. That's been an adventure in and of itself.
Farewell gentle people
Mikie
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Hollywood Friday Night
Daniel has been staying at my house the past 3 days. It's been a miracle having somebody familiar to hang around with, it feels like when we lived in Santa Cruz and just explored and he cooked and we just hung out all the time - pretty sweet. This kind of stuff is like the medicine for any socially ineptitude, all it takes is one friend who comes to visit when you ask them to. Now, if only I could find somebody to actually move with me...
Last night was another fabulous Hollywood extravaganza. I'm thinking about writing down my nights that I experience there since every night something wildly different occurs and some of the stories are pretty interesting.
A white Range Rover pulls up to the boulevard side of my Hotel, and I walk to the driver's door to open it. A pretty latino woman with large breasts is taking her last few drags of a joint, and passing it to her friend. I try not to inhale the puffs of white smoke, as I let her out. She turns out to be Daisy Marie, an A-list porn star that wants to come in our place for a drink. So I roll down all the windows, stick my head out the door and drive around the corner towards our garage.
Jamie Foxx shows back up to the Hotel side of things, and all my amigos at work are like, "Mikie! Mikie! It's your man!! Get 'im back, get him back man!" in reference to me going over to HIS two ladies and stealing them, putting them in my silver Lamborghini and driving off into the night. Of course that won't happen, at least not for a year or two. :) So instead we just happily accept his large gratuities and park his flat driving machine up top.
At one point in the night I had to venture into the kitchen of the Delphine restaurant (part of our hotel, French cuisine) to find a bucket and fill it with hot soapy water. Why? Because somebody had vomited and pissed and shat in our alleyway, the one immediately adjacent to our employee hotel entrance, and somebody had to do the dirty work of finding a cleanse for the mess. I took it upon myself, and soon I was pouring and then sloshing the cleaning solution back into the alley. It did the trick, and we smelt no more foulness.
Eventually Daniel and I were waiting for the bus, since he was hanging around too. While I worked, he had walked for a good 3 1/2 hours up to Griffith Park and watched an electrical show of some kind. Probably right around the time that I was chatting with Daisy Marie's friend (Cristina) while she smoked, about how she was going to steal me from work the following night and take me into Drai's, the upstairs club.
But as the bus was taking forever to arrive, we happily observed hoards of hoochie high-tight-skirted girls and their totally oblivious douche boyfriends flooding from the gates of the Drai's entrance (this was towards the end of the night). One girl looked uncomfortable as she walked, and then I could see she was about to barf. I showed Daniel and we watched as this pretty, primped thing started to puke and walk simultaneously. Soon she was fully keeled over and letting it go. From twenty feet away we hear a young guy laughing loudly saying, "Heeey that's my wife!! Hahah that's my wife!" as he runs over and pulls her hair back. Solid.
Around 3am the bus arrived. A man had a dog with him and tried to get on. The bus driver was so stubborn that he stopped the bus because of it, and the man was so stubborn that he wouldn't leave. So a mutiny broke out amongst bus riders about the legality of having a dog on the bus, and soon there was total mayhem. Daniel and I watched as people were shouting and approaching the man (a HUGE man, mind you) until the Sheriff came. But the man still wouldn't leave, so 2 more cop cars came and we all had to get off so they could "escort" the dog man off the bus.
An hour later we were walking down the streets of peaceful Pasadena.
So goes my night. I'll update you about tonight later on.
Last night was another fabulous Hollywood extravaganza. I'm thinking about writing down my nights that I experience there since every night something wildly different occurs and some of the stories are pretty interesting.
A white Range Rover pulls up to the boulevard side of my Hotel, and I walk to the driver's door to open it. A pretty latino woman with large breasts is taking her last few drags of a joint, and passing it to her friend. I try not to inhale the puffs of white smoke, as I let her out. She turns out to be Daisy Marie, an A-list porn star that wants to come in our place for a drink. So I roll down all the windows, stick my head out the door and drive around the corner towards our garage.
Jamie Foxx shows back up to the Hotel side of things, and all my amigos at work are like, "Mikie! Mikie! It's your man!! Get 'im back, get him back man!" in reference to me going over to HIS two ladies and stealing them, putting them in my silver Lamborghini and driving off into the night. Of course that won't happen, at least not for a year or two. :) So instead we just happily accept his large gratuities and park his flat driving machine up top.
At one point in the night I had to venture into the kitchen of the Delphine restaurant (part of our hotel, French cuisine) to find a bucket and fill it with hot soapy water. Why? Because somebody had vomited and pissed and shat in our alleyway, the one immediately adjacent to our employee hotel entrance, and somebody had to do the dirty work of finding a cleanse for the mess. I took it upon myself, and soon I was pouring and then sloshing the cleaning solution back into the alley. It did the trick, and we smelt no more foulness.
Eventually Daniel and I were waiting for the bus, since he was hanging around too. While I worked, he had walked for a good 3 1/2 hours up to Griffith Park and watched an electrical show of some kind. Probably right around the time that I was chatting with Daisy Marie's friend (Cristina) while she smoked, about how she was going to steal me from work the following night and take me into Drai's, the upstairs club.
But as the bus was taking forever to arrive, we happily observed hoards of hoochie high-tight-skirted girls and their totally oblivious douche boyfriends flooding from the gates of the Drai's entrance (this was towards the end of the night). One girl looked uncomfortable as she walked, and then I could see she was about to barf. I showed Daniel and we watched as this pretty, primped thing started to puke and walk simultaneously. Soon she was fully keeled over and letting it go. From twenty feet away we hear a young guy laughing loudly saying, "Heeey that's my wife!! Hahah that's my wife!" as he runs over and pulls her hair back. Solid.
Around 3am the bus arrived. A man had a dog with him and tried to get on. The bus driver was so stubborn that he stopped the bus because of it, and the man was so stubborn that he wouldn't leave. So a mutiny broke out amongst bus riders about the legality of having a dog on the bus, and soon there was total mayhem. Daniel and I watched as people were shouting and approaching the man (a HUGE man, mind you) until the Sheriff came. But the man still wouldn't leave, so 2 more cop cars came and we all had to get off so they could "escort" the dog man off the bus.
An hour later we were walking down the streets of peaceful Pasadena.
So goes my night. I'll update you about tonight later on.
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Goings-on
walking home from the bus stop at 4:05am tonight I heard a loud rumble and crash behind me. I looked back, wondering..and then 5 minutes later a girl that was standing outside her house stopped me. "Excuse me, did you just feel an earthquake?" I responded, "no..but I did hear something weird"
Then I realized I had been in an earthquake. Big deal. It was a 4.4.
Now I'm sitting on my bed with a horribly sunburnt back and chest and neck.
Tonight I ate at a bar where two middle-aged women from Tennessee were picking up on me, and invited me home. I wanted to ditch them but didn't know how, so I brought them next door to the W hotel. Jamie Foxx was waiting there, and he picked them up and took them home in his silver Lamborghini. Thanks Jamie, I owe you one.
On the bus these two younger gangster fellows were going to murder me. I ended up sitting really close to the bus driver and talking to her the whole time to distract me from the scary dudes. I'm quite amazed that I'm sitting in my apartment right now, since I was so so convinced that I was going to die tonight.
Yesterday I drove to San Diego after sleeping in and knowing I should leave. It was a beautiful drive down to SD. One of my favorites. Last night I had another late-night conversation with the one and only CNFox after a lovely dinner with Daniel and Melissa at BJ's Brewery.
This morning I hiked a peak overlooking the cities of Tijuana and San Diego with Daniel. In doing so, I: 1 - had an amazing conversation with Daniel, 2 - acquired a massive sunburn that now glows red against my back, chest and arms.
Tomorrow morning I have an audition at 11:30am, but I'm going to ditch it. Don't judge me, I'm exhausted.
I wish I could have gone to Joshua Tree. I can't wait to work on the river this summer. I love you World. Goodnight.
Mikie
Then I realized I had been in an earthquake. Big deal. It was a 4.4.
Now I'm sitting on my bed with a horribly sunburnt back and chest and neck.
Tonight I ate at a bar where two middle-aged women from Tennessee were picking up on me, and invited me home. I wanted to ditch them but didn't know how, so I brought them next door to the W hotel. Jamie Foxx was waiting there, and he picked them up and took them home in his silver Lamborghini. Thanks Jamie, I owe you one.
On the bus these two younger gangster fellows were going to murder me. I ended up sitting really close to the bus driver and talking to her the whole time to distract me from the scary dudes. I'm quite amazed that I'm sitting in my apartment right now, since I was so so convinced that I was going to die tonight.
Yesterday I drove to San Diego after sleeping in and knowing I should leave. It was a beautiful drive down to SD. One of my favorites. Last night I had another late-night conversation with the one and only CNFox after a lovely dinner with Daniel and Melissa at BJ's Brewery.
This morning I hiked a peak overlooking the cities of Tijuana and San Diego with Daniel. In doing so, I: 1 - had an amazing conversation with Daniel, 2 - acquired a massive sunburn that now glows red against my back, chest and arms.
Tomorrow morning I have an audition at 11:30am, but I'm going to ditch it. Don't judge me, I'm exhausted.
I wish I could have gone to Joshua Tree. I can't wait to work on the river this summer. I love you World. Goodnight.
Mikie
Friday, March 12, 2010
Last Night
hello world.
I'm in my house again, in Pasadena. I mean, I guess you could call it a house though I essentially live alone in an apartment that's overly clean for my tastes most the time, but it's the best thing next to a home that I've got.
Somehow I ended up alone in the world. This keeps happening to me! One minute I'm settling into a state of contentment, the next I find myself sitting on my bed typing a blog to the outside world because there's really no other means for expression. I'm not sure how this is, but maybe I can use it as a sort of research project about life:
Last night was easily the craziest night I've had yet at work. Besides the total insanity of the job itself, stacking and maneuvering hundreds upon hundreds of shiny new automobiles, I also got to meet some people that I never thought I'd meet this soon. Take for instance meeting this girl named Kristen. I had run up to the motor court to retrieve my next vehicle and stood next to a black Mercedes. I opened the door to let out the driver and it was a blond girl whom I recognized. She got out and smiled at me, and I remembered that she was one of the girls from The Hills, a popular TV show about pretty much nothing, but fun to watch. (So fun in fact that I had watched the entire season of it from my little living room in Santa Cruz not even a year prior). Now here I am, standing next to the car and opening the door for one of the actresses from the show. As she stepped out, I was thinking about how I knew her brother who worked at the W with us (total coincidence). So I said, "Welcome to Hollywood. Hey do you have a brother?" which she smiled back to and replied, "yeah!! He works here!" and we got into a little chat about it. She's really attractive, so I had to play it cool. and Definitely didn't, but maybe that's a good thing. Either way, we laughed for a second, and I got into her car and drove it down into the garage.
Why tell this story? (and so many more at this point)
Because as I parked her car downstairs and was jogging the familiar Jurassic-Parkish pipeline routes back to the top, I found myself totally content with my decision to move to LA. I mean, here's the deal: I've always lived far away observing this place in wonder (and disgust), as many of us do from our distant abodes. And as I grew up I also loved movies, music, scores, cartoons and television series, and dreamed about being a part of it. Not until later in life did I comprehend the reality: all entertainment, movies, politics, heroes, villains, everybody I worshiped growing came from here. And so somewhere in college it became my impossible goal, my calling, to abandon all hope and move down to become a part of it.
I guess last night opening the door for this beautiful semi-celebrity closed that loop between sitting in my Santa Cruz home watching her on television having an actual conversation with her in real life. It dawned on me that I'm slowly (and actually) accomplishing what I grew up dreaming about. It's that old tried-and-tested, if you really want something you have to go out get it.
Of course then Jamie Foxx showed up in a silver Lamborghini and I started to feel a little out of my league. Then we lost Ryan Phillipe's and Dr Dre's keys, in one night!!
I mean, what kind of operation are we running here.
Point: I am alone, but I'm slowly earning happiness. I really want to get used to it, it's a fulfilling thing. I had some pretty heavy emotional attachments to things before, and for a while they were severed from me like having your arm sawed off with a butter knife. The nice thing is that I think I've just made it past the bone, so that the rest can tear away nicely, heal, and I can get back to what I was doing.
In the meantime, I have more encounters with beautiful celebrities to look forward to, and new people to network with so that maybe someday I can achieve my next goal: be the guy stepping out of the black Mercedes, rather than standing next to it.
That is all. Fare thee well you Placerville folk and the rest.
I'm in my house again, in Pasadena. I mean, I guess you could call it a house though I essentially live alone in an apartment that's overly clean for my tastes most the time, but it's the best thing next to a home that I've got.
Somehow I ended up alone in the world. This keeps happening to me! One minute I'm settling into a state of contentment, the next I find myself sitting on my bed typing a blog to the outside world because there's really no other means for expression. I'm not sure how this is, but maybe I can use it as a sort of research project about life:
Last night was easily the craziest night I've had yet at work. Besides the total insanity of the job itself, stacking and maneuvering hundreds upon hundreds of shiny new automobiles, I also got to meet some people that I never thought I'd meet this soon. Take for instance meeting this girl named Kristen. I had run up to the motor court to retrieve my next vehicle and stood next to a black Mercedes. I opened the door to let out the driver and it was a blond girl whom I recognized. She got out and smiled at me, and I remembered that she was one of the girls from The Hills, a popular TV show about pretty much nothing, but fun to watch. (So fun in fact that I had watched the entire season of it from my little living room in Santa Cruz not even a year prior). Now here I am, standing next to the car and opening the door for one of the actresses from the show. As she stepped out, I was thinking about how I knew her brother who worked at the W with us (total coincidence). So I said, "Welcome to Hollywood. Hey do you have a brother?" which she smiled back to and replied, "yeah!! He works here!" and we got into a little chat about it. She's really attractive, so I had to play it cool. and Definitely didn't, but maybe that's a good thing. Either way, we laughed for a second, and I got into her car and drove it down into the garage.
Why tell this story? (and so many more at this point)
Because as I parked her car downstairs and was jogging the familiar Jurassic-Parkish pipeline routes back to the top, I found myself totally content with my decision to move to LA. I mean, here's the deal: I've always lived far away observing this place in wonder (and disgust), as many of us do from our distant abodes. And as I grew up I also loved movies, music, scores, cartoons and television series, and dreamed about being a part of it. Not until later in life did I comprehend the reality: all entertainment, movies, politics, heroes, villains, everybody I worshiped growing came from here. And so somewhere in college it became my impossible goal, my calling, to abandon all hope and move down to become a part of it.
I guess last night opening the door for this beautiful semi-celebrity closed that loop between sitting in my Santa Cruz home watching her on television having an actual conversation with her in real life. It dawned on me that I'm slowly (and actually) accomplishing what I grew up dreaming about. It's that old tried-and-tested, if you really want something you have to go out get it.
Of course then Jamie Foxx showed up in a silver Lamborghini and I started to feel a little out of my league. Then we lost Ryan Phillipe's and Dr Dre's keys, in one night!!
I mean, what kind of operation are we running here.
Point: I am alone, but I'm slowly earning happiness. I really want to get used to it, it's a fulfilling thing. I had some pretty heavy emotional attachments to things before, and for a while they were severed from me like having your arm sawed off with a butter knife. The nice thing is that I think I've just made it past the bone, so that the rest can tear away nicely, heal, and I can get back to what I was doing.
In the meantime, I have more encounters with beautiful celebrities to look forward to, and new people to network with so that maybe someday I can achieve my next goal: be the guy stepping out of the black Mercedes, rather than standing next to it.
That is all. Fare thee well you Placerville folk and the rest.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Heart, Work, Homes
I'm halfway along my journey through the wilds of Northern California. After three full months of living immersed in a city amongst the bustle of nights and noise in a sea of humanity, it's a pretty wonderful feeling to emerge from the concrete pool and escape into the country and through the forest trees of my long-lost and loved northward home.
Let's talk about Home.
I'm aware that LA is my aspired workplace, and now I'm free to go to work. I feel like the unbudgable Titanic that is my professional life is beginning to gradually eek forward. With it has come this new feeling of professional order, like I'm finally putting together the life that I'd wanted to create. Doing so has put my mind at ease about professional things, and the stress and urgency is beginning to dissipate into routine.
so as the greys clear, I can see more than ever where my true Home is.
Home is where my heart will stay, as I go to Work each day.
There will be a day when I am fullly professionally sound, and ready to pick a home for myself. I'm lucky that I come from such a rad place, because it tells me where to start looking:
Look at this mountain in front of me, Mt. Diablo.
In random ridges and shades of green she is a beautiful demon
like a guardian over the entrance to the Bay.
Or the city of San Francisco
traveling under the water in a train that will emerge
beneath a city so lush with culture and colours
and rolling suburbs scattering south
housing rich bars and stylish diversity
Or Highway 17 through the redwoods
a haunting tunnel to trespass and traverse
the trek is such a beautiful journey
And the city of Santa Cruz:
a charmingly-messy city tucked between
the low mountains surrounding, dotted with homeless
and between these wood walls lies a city alight with life
glowing in the night with echoes of original music
and debauched joy. Styles converge
into a full culture of locals, transients, restaurants
and adventure by the foggy beach.
These places are a large part of what I call Home. as my urgency dissipates, I no longer have the disdain or knots for these homes that I once felt. Now I just want to stare at the gray crashing waves and smell the mist and seaweed, watch the ghost Boardwalk crank alive and start singing in the cold nights. These places are my home, as is Placerville. LA is my home too, the home for my profession, and not my whole heart.
It's not easy to live apart from all of your family and loved ones. It takes a kind of determination and faith that is both draining but hugely motivating and rewarding. It's a battle I am prepared to continue fighting, tackling, 150%, untiringly so.
At least for now.
That's all. Love you guys.
Mikie
Let's talk about Home.
I'm aware that LA is my aspired workplace, and now I'm free to go to work. I feel like the unbudgable Titanic that is my professional life is beginning to gradually eek forward. With it has come this new feeling of professional order, like I'm finally putting together the life that I'd wanted to create. Doing so has put my mind at ease about professional things, and the stress and urgency is beginning to dissipate into routine.
so as the greys clear, I can see more than ever where my true Home is.
Home is where my heart will stay, as I go to Work each day.
There will be a day when I am fullly professionally sound, and ready to pick a home for myself. I'm lucky that I come from such a rad place, because it tells me where to start looking:
Look at this mountain in front of me, Mt. Diablo.
In random ridges and shades of green she is a beautiful demon
like a guardian over the entrance to the Bay.
Or the city of San Francisco
traveling under the water in a train that will emerge
beneath a city so lush with culture and colours
and rolling suburbs scattering south
housing rich bars and stylish diversity
Or Highway 17 through the redwoods
a haunting tunnel to trespass and traverse
the trek is such a beautiful journey
And the city of Santa Cruz:
a charmingly-messy city tucked between
the low mountains surrounding, dotted with homeless
and between these wood walls lies a city alight with life
glowing in the night with echoes of original music
and debauched joy. Styles converge
into a full culture of locals, transients, restaurants
and adventure by the foggy beach.
These places are a large part of what I call Home. as my urgency dissipates, I no longer have the disdain or knots for these homes that I once felt. Now I just want to stare at the gray crashing waves and smell the mist and seaweed, watch the ghost Boardwalk crank alive and start singing in the cold nights. These places are my home, as is Placerville. LA is my home too, the home for my profession, and not my whole heart.
It's not easy to live apart from all of your family and loved ones. It takes a kind of determination and faith that is both draining but hugely motivating and rewarding. It's a battle I am prepared to continue fighting, tackling, 150%, untiringly so.
At least for now.
That's all. Love you guys.
Mikie
Friday, March 5, 2010
each other
my own
wild blues and grays above
the yellow plains beneath
rolling green hills before
the black spires beyond
now towers of tall silver along
the coastline glistening away
from the long grids between
a line of a thousand cars moving
towards a future unknown
from pasts left with regret
to this expected esteem
minds' aspirations glittering
I see faces under the smokey night smile
in bars crowded with searchers
laughing and looking, some found
for some clue, some unspoken truth.
From each state so separate
we come together in a place, of Love
and maybe hating difference
the only thing to learn from is each other
wild blues and grays above
the yellow plains beneath
rolling green hills before
the black spires beyond
now towers of tall silver along
the coastline glistening away
from the long grids between
a line of a thousand cars moving
towards a future unknown
from pasts left with regret
to this expected esteem
minds' aspirations glittering
I see faces under the smokey night smile
in bars crowded with searchers
laughing and looking, some found
for some clue, some unspoken truth.
From each state so separate
we come together in a place, of Love
and maybe hating difference
the only thing to learn from is each other
Thursday, March 4, 2010
LA
I had some ideas yesterday that I want to work on -
But first, let's talk about LA.
I have spent the past 4 months running around Hollywood, Pasadena, Burbank, Claremont and downtown. For those who don't really know, this place is divided into several little subcities, each with its own uniqueness and atmosphere. My analogy is that it's a Zelda game, and I wanted to privy you all to the adventurous extent of my fantasy:
In Zelda, there are all these little worlds within the one huge world of Hyrule, and as you scamper and trot between places on your journey, you find yourself in and out of all the corners or each. This is what can be said for LA.
My hometown is now Pasadena. I wake up here, I go to sleep here. I walk around the streets and talk to the locals and eat in the restaurants and take pictures of the local loveliness. But then when it's time to set off on my daily adventure, I'm on a bus or in my car driving across vastness with the skyline of Downtown LA (much like Hyrule Castle) always looming on the horizon.
Then I'm in Hollywood, a land of its own. My W Hotel is my first main dungeon to conquer (I've had a few dungeons up to this point, like Yard House, that Beverly Hills office building, the Union Train Station, but the W is the first BIG one. If you played the game, you'd know what I mean) Along Hollywood Blvd, There are so many wonderful buildings to stare at, huge advertisements to hate and wonder, and behind always the gorgeous cloud-draped foothills..and the white letters of HOLLYWOOD always just above. Walking down Hollywood Blvd feels like strolling the streets of a repopulated ghost town, hearkening to some ancient past where movie stars were gods and film was something impossible.Here also is the local pub where you can find all the local folks at night, Dillon's Irish Pub. $3 beers on tap all day, every day, on the corner of Hollywood and Vine.
Then I'm on the subway, headed to Universal City and eventually Burbank. Burbank is like a worktown, this is where the people go to work. There are studios here that hug beneath the clefts of the Griffith Park mountains, and like ants they are filled with smiling creative workers..at night the whiteness of backlights and camera glow illuminate hundreds of extras and cranes and busy production folk. Inside the studios, shows are being compiled and the laughter of audiences can be heard echoing through the studio courtyards. Another of my dungeons is also here, the Disney Channel Building, a labyrinth of 20 stories and filled with royalty and magistrates.
Then I find myself in downtown LA, forever looking upwards. Hanging like stalagmites towards the vanilla sky rises a dozen magnificent human pinnacles, like Olympic statues, reaching into the blue and white. The tall buildings of downtown Los Angeles are a staggering eyescape of incredulous construction. I wonder only at things that I don't understand, and as I see the highest spire, the US Bank building climbing into the sky I can only wonder and stare like it's a Goddess and I her servant. Sometimes on my way to the ocean I drive beneath these buildings, and their movement past me is no less than a dance of the Ancients; like giant dinosaurs rolling above in stillness as you pass beneath. Downtown LA is a mysterious castle, and somewhere high above there is a princess locked away, looking out with hope for this doomed world.
And I am her Link.
Claremont is my Death Mountain and the village that rests beneath. Oak trees and scented flowers dress the sweet streets where children play and walk their bicycles; the university always quietly in motion. Dan lives here, a good friend. When I arrive we venture the steep roads and trails taking us headlong into the foothills around the feet of Mt. Baldy. Suddenly we're surrounded by nothing but desert and trees and the mountains above.. and you can feel there's something lying here undiscovered, some future yet to be determined. I can't explain the mystery locked beneath the town of Claremont, or what rests in these mountains, but something is breathing like Smaug and his treasure, Gollum and his ring. Somewhere within its peak, Mt Baldy hides a cave in the subterranean, and maybe our destinies await some bigger, greater Truth within. Staring up at Mt Baldy I can sense those doors waiting to be opened..
Finally, there's the adventure that connects all of these places. I have come here with nothing, almost naked and on a dying horse. After three months of journeys and skirmishes and hard work, I have begun to see my path through here, see where I must go, and settling no lesser than to fight the Ganon of it all and rescue the Triforce from the clutches of evil. Every day is a new life, and my inventory of supplies and weapons are all growing slowly. I do need more maps though, or have someone that might mark my map for the next step to where my next dungeon or item is hid. (but that's me getting soft). I have found a land where nature and mankind and fantasy intertwine, and I am barely just beginning to unravel the true Nature of my time here.
Adieu!
Ciao!
Work time!
But first, let's talk about LA.
I have spent the past 4 months running around Hollywood, Pasadena, Burbank, Claremont and downtown. For those who don't really know, this place is divided into several little subcities, each with its own uniqueness and atmosphere. My analogy is that it's a Zelda game, and I wanted to privy you all to the adventurous extent of my fantasy:
In Zelda, there are all these little worlds within the one huge world of Hyrule, and as you scamper and trot between places on your journey, you find yourself in and out of all the corners or each. This is what can be said for LA.
My hometown is now Pasadena. I wake up here, I go to sleep here. I walk around the streets and talk to the locals and eat in the restaurants and take pictures of the local loveliness. But then when it's time to set off on my daily adventure, I'm on a bus or in my car driving across vastness with the skyline of Downtown LA (much like Hyrule Castle) always looming on the horizon.
Then I'm in Hollywood, a land of its own. My W Hotel is my first main dungeon to conquer (I've had a few dungeons up to this point, like Yard House, that Beverly Hills office building, the Union Train Station, but the W is the first BIG one. If you played the game, you'd know what I mean) Along Hollywood Blvd, There are so many wonderful buildings to stare at, huge advertisements to hate and wonder, and behind always the gorgeous cloud-draped foothills..and the white letters of HOLLYWOOD always just above. Walking down Hollywood Blvd feels like strolling the streets of a repopulated ghost town, hearkening to some ancient past where movie stars were gods and film was something impossible.Here also is the local pub where you can find all the local folks at night, Dillon's Irish Pub. $3 beers on tap all day, every day, on the corner of Hollywood and Vine.
Then I'm on the subway, headed to Universal City and eventually Burbank. Burbank is like a worktown, this is where the people go to work. There are studios here that hug beneath the clefts of the Griffith Park mountains, and like ants they are filled with smiling creative workers..at night the whiteness of backlights and camera glow illuminate hundreds of extras and cranes and busy production folk. Inside the studios, shows are being compiled and the laughter of audiences can be heard echoing through the studio courtyards. Another of my dungeons is also here, the Disney Channel Building, a labyrinth of 20 stories and filled with royalty and magistrates.
Then I find myself in downtown LA, forever looking upwards. Hanging like stalagmites towards the vanilla sky rises a dozen magnificent human pinnacles, like Olympic statues, reaching into the blue and white. The tall buildings of downtown Los Angeles are a staggering eyescape of incredulous construction. I wonder only at things that I don't understand, and as I see the highest spire, the US Bank building climbing into the sky I can only wonder and stare like it's a Goddess and I her servant. Sometimes on my way to the ocean I drive beneath these buildings, and their movement past me is no less than a dance of the Ancients; like giant dinosaurs rolling above in stillness as you pass beneath. Downtown LA is a mysterious castle, and somewhere high above there is a princess locked away, looking out with hope for this doomed world.
And I am her Link.
Claremont is my Death Mountain and the village that rests beneath. Oak trees and scented flowers dress the sweet streets where children play and walk their bicycles; the university always quietly in motion. Dan lives here, a good friend. When I arrive we venture the steep roads and trails taking us headlong into the foothills around the feet of Mt. Baldy. Suddenly we're surrounded by nothing but desert and trees and the mountains above.. and you can feel there's something lying here undiscovered, some future yet to be determined. I can't explain the mystery locked beneath the town of Claremont, or what rests in these mountains, but something is breathing like Smaug and his treasure, Gollum and his ring. Somewhere within its peak, Mt Baldy hides a cave in the subterranean, and maybe our destinies await some bigger, greater Truth within. Staring up at Mt Baldy I can sense those doors waiting to be opened..
Finally, there's the adventure that connects all of these places. I have come here with nothing, almost naked and on a dying horse. After three months of journeys and skirmishes and hard work, I have begun to see my path through here, see where I must go, and settling no lesser than to fight the Ganon of it all and rescue the Triforce from the clutches of evil. Every day is a new life, and my inventory of supplies and weapons are all growing slowly. I do need more maps though, or have someone that might mark my map for the next step to where my next dungeon or item is hid. (but that's me getting soft). I have found a land where nature and mankind and fantasy intertwine, and I am barely just beginning to unravel the true Nature of my time here.
Adieu!
Ciao!
Work time!
Summer or 2000
summer's hiding somewhere ahead
I remember sitting on a stage in suspenders
under the warm stars, in an evening stage light,
the band rasped an opening to the song
something rumbled from the speakers, fog was building
cross-legged with my back to the audience
I sat staring at the black-painted bars
with my purple shoes in front of me, my arms resting
on my knees. I could hear a loud sample being played
and feel the tension of the crowd, breathing in wait
I remember being brought to that same spot
my hands bound one by one to the black bars
the band playing clashes of fright and dissonance
and like a victim in the chair I rattled and heaved
in electric terror, my eyes tight with the pain
of the night I'd left behind
in my mind wondering, what is this?
and singing of my death.
I remember the six or seven
pairs of hands lifting me up
my stomach facing the warm night sky
arms brought out, eyes to the stars
being carried in silent chant up the stairs
and into the darkness
This is how all summers should begin.
The winter breaths cold with life
then melts as summer summits the furthest peak.
In love and practice we'd bitten through it,
so now we might shed our winter skins
and send them off in a wave of love,
faring them well on a journey that is no longer ours
...
I remember a night in a closet not long after
my arms wrapped around another
my mind spinning in pure delight
for I had discovered what it was to finally be free
This was life, this was Love and
everything was amazing.
I remember sitting on a stage in suspenders
under the warm stars, in an evening stage light,
the band rasped an opening to the song
something rumbled from the speakers, fog was building
cross-legged with my back to the audience
I sat staring at the black-painted bars
with my purple shoes in front of me, my arms resting
on my knees. I could hear a loud sample being played
and feel the tension of the crowd, breathing in wait
I remember being brought to that same spot
my hands bound one by one to the black bars
the band playing clashes of fright and dissonance
and like a victim in the chair I rattled and heaved
in electric terror, my eyes tight with the pain
of the night I'd left behind
in my mind wondering, what is this?
and singing of my death.
I remember the six or seven
pairs of hands lifting me up
my stomach facing the warm night sky
arms brought out, eyes to the stars
being carried in silent chant up the stairs
and into the darkness
This is how all summers should begin.
The winter breaths cold with life
then melts as summer summits the furthest peak.
In love and practice we'd bitten through it,
so now we might shed our winter skins
and send them off in a wave of love,
faring them well on a journey that is no longer ours
...
I remember a night in a closet not long after
my arms wrapped around another
my mind spinning in pure delight
for I had discovered what it was to finally be free
This was life, this was Love and
everything was amazing.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
W
This is where I've been going every day to work, and it's as lovely as it looks. I'm in the one with all the people, see if you can spot me!
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
shaking
I'm shaking inside like an earthquake
is rolling through my stomach and won't stop
sending wave after sickening wave
from my my neck through my legs, my fingers
quivering uncontrollably like I am standing scared
staring at an oncoming train in a blank state
My hands are twitching, their sad dance
reminding me the stab of quaking rolls won't go away
for what I've wasted, all that I have
tried and failed and lost, helplessly
I shake and quake waiting for the train..
Trailing behind in the wake my body won't stop shaking
is rolling through my stomach and won't stop
sending wave after sickening wave
from my my neck through my legs, my fingers
quivering uncontrollably like I am standing scared
staring at an oncoming train in a blank state
My hands are twitching, their sad dance
reminding me the stab of quaking rolls won't go away
for what I've wasted, all that I have
tried and failed and lost, helplessly
I shake and quake waiting for the train..
Trailing behind in the wake my body won't stop shaking
Monday, March 1, 2010
farewell flowers
I ran my hands through the sky and pulled
the prettiest flowers from a patch of blue and white
Holding fast to my bouquet
I cheered and dance and celebrated love's way
then in the distance
a twinkle blinded me briefly
and tripping towards a city drain
I fell and dropped the flowers in the street
Dark waters from the rains began to rush around
but still I fell pounding my palms into the pavement ground
until in a braced scramble I landed hard, crying out
"Oh no! Where are my flowers?!"
but it was too late
a layer of slime and piss had spewn o'er each soft petal
browning the innards and smothering them well
I watched in a horror as my darlings rolled about
lurching in the slew and the slop of the city
nestling deeply in feces and spit
I watched them, in helplessness, fall through the street drain
No! I cried out and reached
but grasped only cold steel
and it stank back up at me, wreaking truth:
I had buried my flowers, in an accidental dance
trying to catch my feet while I let them fall
to the nasty death that washed by
Now my flowers are dead
There is no blue sky or field above
or warm night stars to share with love
only an empty road ahead of me
without scent, color
nothing familiar, nothing to see
nowhere to follow
and sick to my stomach with the imagination
I must let them go, let them drown
and move on
so finally rests here
an end to my blandest story
of those pretty flowers so quaint
surprising conclusion
to my bright illusion
ends sadly in pitiful taint
the prettiest flowers from a patch of blue and white
Holding fast to my bouquet
I cheered and dance and celebrated love's way
then in the distance
a twinkle blinded me briefly
and tripping towards a city drain
I fell and dropped the flowers in the street
Dark waters from the rains began to rush around
but still I fell pounding my palms into the pavement ground
until in a braced scramble I landed hard, crying out
"Oh no! Where are my flowers?!"
but it was too late
a layer of slime and piss had spewn o'er each soft petal
browning the innards and smothering them well
I watched in a horror as my darlings rolled about
lurching in the slew and the slop of the city
nestling deeply in feces and spit
I watched them, in helplessness, fall through the street drain
No! I cried out and reached
but grasped only cold steel
and it stank back up at me, wreaking truth:
I had buried my flowers, in an accidental dance
trying to catch my feet while I let them fall
to the nasty death that washed by
Now my flowers are dead
There is no blue sky or field above
or warm night stars to share with love
only an empty road ahead of me
without scent, color
nothing familiar, nothing to see
nowhere to follow
and sick to my stomach with the imagination
I must let them go, let them drown
and move on
so finally rests here
an end to my blandest story
of those pretty flowers so quaint
surprising conclusion
to my bright illusion
ends sadly in pitiful taint
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