home for the holidays

Being home for the holidays rocks. The only thing that sucks is trying not to eat too much. My favorite Christmas gift was a portable DVD player, which pretty much ensures that I'll never ever read again.

Last night, I went to see King Kong, and it was pretty fucking awesome. I really think that Naomi Watts deserves a look for an Oscar nod. If not her, then definitely the cgi Kong ape creature. Me and my sister left the theater with nary a dry eye between us. It was really emo. I have a lot of thoughts about the film, but I'd rather not write them now, because I'm lazy, and I just want to finish this Corona and hang out with my dog (he's sleeping on the chair). Next time, though. In the theater with us was an old friend who I haven't seen in ages and John Franco, former closer for the New York Mets, and one of the greatest left-handed relievers of all time. He's a Staten Island resident, too. We didn't say hi to him considering he was there with his kid to enjoy the film, but me and my sister were really stoked and are telling everyone about it. Everyone.

The night before, I boozed it up hard in the city for the Annual, a yearly thing that my oldest friend and I do. We see each other about once a year. When we do, we go to the city, take a picture at the Rockerfeller tree and then drink a lot of booze. We didn't get home until after 7am. The best thing about New York City is that the Irish pubs, the good ones anyway, serve Guinness in the imperial pints, which are bigger, and I swear the drafts have higher alcohol content too, because we were sauced. At least this year, we remember getting home. The last place we went was this place called McCormack's Public House, and the bartender was way Irish. He told us, "you can get a good pint here, lads." And he wasn't kidding. He also directed us to a deli next door that was open 24 hours. At 3am, I went inside and had a sandwich made fresh right in front of me. I really miss New York sometimes. Oh, and I bumped into comedian Dave Attel at the Playwright pub. People say I look a lot like him. One time, some dude at the bar was convinced I was him, and I told him I wasn't, but that I was his brother. He totally bought it. He was totally drunk.

paralysis

Christmas shopping this evening was rather overwhelming, mostly because I was gunshy about my finances. I think I'm going to be alright though. I'm going to regroup and try again tomorrow. Me and my roommate H. went to Mervyn's because they were having some ridiculous sale. I hate buying clothes for people, because everyone's rather particular about what they wear, and I'm always worried I'll get the wrong size, so I ended up buying myself jeans--a nice pair of Levis--and a couple pairs of tacky Christmas boxers for my friend D. to go along with the tacky Christmas tie my sister bought him. It's got blinking lights and musical sounds and everything. That's dope. Almost as dope as this Nine Black Alps album I'm listening to over these crappy laptop speakers. Everything Is...in stores February 28th...here in the States.

...Almost as dope as this Anchor Christmas Ale. Seriously, you've got until mid-January to find this stuff. It's bringing a tear to my eye.

I know that it's way doper than fucking Lost being a rerun AGAIN. Two episodes tonight, both reruns. I'm missing my little Lost parties--Guinness, pizza and good times.

My roommate H. bought me a Guinness hoodie for Christmas. I was going to buy it for myself but she snatched it from me, after we both agreed to do Christmas in January. I was a little irked, but not really. It's a damn nice hoodie. It's chocolate brown and has a really nice Guinness graphic on it.

We took a break from shopping to go to one of H.'s friends house for cocktails and ended up staying a lot longer than planned. Her friend brought out a tray of prosciutto and goat cheese and a bowl of warm Italian bread. They smoked pot, and he played reggae music on the stereo and a six hour VHS cassette of sattelite images of the Earth in orbit on the television screen. It was strangely engrossing. After that, we got Europe travel tips from Rick Steves, who may be the dorkiest man alive with the best job in the fucking world.

This entry's really pointless. I can't focus on anything right now. I just want to enjoy the company of the people I enjoy being in the company of, and I'm happy that there's a good number of people I like to be with. I may not post again until after Christmas, and I know there's not a lot of you, but for anyone who does read this, happy holidays.

I told you this Anchor Christmas Ale is good shit.

suspension of disbelief

Yesterday I cashed in my gift certificate at my favorite restaurant in town. I had wine, dinner an appetizer and dessert. All of it was good, though one or two pieces of calamari was a bit too chewy. Nothing major, though. It's been a good week: the Giants beat the Kansas City Chiefs in a really important game (an exciting one too), Anchor Christmas Ale turned out to be the bomb this year (I have two more in the fridge that I can't wait to crack open), my sister's going to be performing in a play in the big city, I'm going home at the end of the week and I got to touch a pregnant belly for the first time (super spooky). I'm sure this is all just leading up to something bad--because I'm Eeyore--but I'll ride it out anyway. I'm happy to be distracted by the distractions. Recently, I've gotten to watch a few pretty good movies. The first one being Ab-normal Beauty by the Pang Brothers, who do slick as fuck horror movies out of China via Thailand.

The Pang Brothers' movies are always at least something to look at, even if the stories are a bit on the janky side. The first time I saw their work was The Eye, which even though it was kind of a Sixth Sense copy, was still really good (and scary). Ab-Normal Beauty wasn't the typical Asian horror ghost story, but a kinda Se7en-like movie about people with weird obsessions. It was breathtaking to watch. Some of the shots made me gasp. And the story was pretty good, too, mostly because actress Race Wong did a pretty damn good job carrying the plot. I guess she's part of some two-woman pop group in China or something. It seems like every actor in Asia also has a hit record. But I think it's cool that pop stars in the Far East do movies like this--something really raw and pretty disturbing--instead of fluff like Crossroads. I dunno. I had some problems with how the story progressed, but I thought it was a really good movie overall. It's definitely worth checking out. I think it gets released in the States at the end of the month.

On Sunday, I watched Romasanta with Julian Sands (The Warlock!) and Elsa Pataky (seriously), which was about a serial killer who'd hack up bodies so it looked like a wolf attack and use their fat to make soap out of. Pretty gnarly. I think it's based on a true story; he was the first serial killer caught in Europe. I liked the movie, even if it was kinda basic, but it made me think about how society has progressed over the last hundred years or so. I wasn't thrust into some serious pondering, but there was some thought there. There was one scene where the detective is trying to get some information on Romasanta from a merchant who bought soap from him, but the merchant isn't very forthcoming at first, so the detective says "Lock him up," which causes the merchant to change his tune. Justice was swift back then. The movie was set in the 19th century, and there were other scenes of people walking around or getting from point A to point B via horse-drawn carriage, and I just couldn't imagine what that must have been like. Going on a journey was a real commitment. Also, there was a scene in the courtroom where the townsfolk were crying for the blood of Romasanta, and I said "people got really worked up about shit back then." When people were pissed about something, they rioted or lynched or burned people or threw you in a sack and dumped you in the river to see if you floated or sacked the castle because the king taxed their rhubarbs or something. And everyone did it together so it was kind of social. Sick and twisted, but social. Not like today, when people kinda get irked but then don't hardly ever do anything about it. Apathy. Of course, my only knowledge of those times are from movies like Romasanta.

the season

I can't wait to get home. I want to be in my city for the holidays. I'm not in the music industry, but I work with it--actually, I kinda suck off it like a leach, but still--and their whims and cycles directly affect my regular work day. Things start slowing down around mid-November, and after we all get back from Thanksgiving, the music industry almost completely shuts down. Now, just a week before Christmas, my usual flow of e-mails has all but ceased. No one's ever at their desk. I get no phone calls. My mail consists of greatest hits compilations and holiday greetings cards. I like working. I like to be busy--though not overworked--and as it stands now, I find it difficult to find a reason why I'm at the office for as long as I am. And now that my roommate brought home a beautiful Noble fir Christmas tree, I'm pretty dead-set against working for the remainder of the year.

The holiday parties aren't helping matters. Last night we were at an epic bash thrown by the same people who hosted the July Less than Zero party. This time, we were at an empty office downtown, but other than that, there wasn't much difference. The party was populated by the same local bigwigs and us scenesters who were happy to soak up the free food and drink. A cranking soundsystem blared Blues Traveler and other such things I find distasteful, but I was happy to hear REM's "What's the Frequency Kenneth?" sneak through there. Monster's one of the best albums ever. I spent the majority of the party in the parking lot behind the building and the animated Aeon Flux was projected on one of the adjacent building's brick walls. I have to admit, that was pretty hot.

Nothing really of note happened. After the party, we ended up going to a bar, because it was one of my coworkers' birthday. We were all really sauced and, really, getting more drinks wasn't necessary. But we soldiered on. One of us went running out of the bar; two stayed behind; and I finished my pint of Guinness and staggered toward a slice of lifesaving pizza that turned out to be not so lifesaving. I passed out on the futon in the livingroom until my roommate came home, which scared me awake.

I ended up not going into work until afternoon. The office was like a triage for the hungover. I went to lunch at one and went home right after. I went back to work at 3:30pm feeling a bit more human, but not much. Even through that, I've been in really good spirits lately. I'll ride that wave while it lasts.

Tonight at dinner, I discovered the wonderful world of yellow curry, and after that, saw a great local rock show at the bar down the block from my house. One band from out of town handed out matchbooks with their name and logo on it. Nice merch. Fun night. And I even gave my liver the night off--well, more like half the night off.

yearbook

I hate to admit it, but I'm on Myspace. I think it's kinda stupid--not in general, but just for me to be on Myspace--but I don things I think are stupid all the time. I've actually been able to reconnect with one friend since I got on it, so I guess it's worth it for that alone. I can also check in and see how my friends back home and out of town are doing, and that's cool too. It's got a feature where you can list what schools you graduated from and what year you graduated. On your profile page, that year turns into a link to a directory of everyone else who uses the site that graduated that same year from the same school you did, assuming of course they made note of it on their profile. When I first joined the site, I marked down my college and class year; even though I'm all butt hurt about the financial hole the place threw me into, I was still pleased with the school overall, mostly because all my professors, save one or two, were wonderful, and one of whom was the most intelligent, thoughtful person I've ever met.

Over the weekend, though, it occured to me that I could also enter in my high school and graduating class. I don't know why I bothered; I think it was the same sick fascination with sorta spying on people that drew me to the site in the first place. I'm such a voyeur.

I didn't have many friends in high school. Every semester, I'd end up shuffling in with one group or another, quite by accident, but I honestly don't remember any of their names. I don't think I told any of them mine. At one time, I was hanging out with a whole bunch of people from Trinidad, because I used to save them a table in the lunch room. In my junior year, my sister entered the school, and so did D., who's now one of my oldest friends, but since I was an upper classmen, I never really saw them. I knew people I graduated with, and if any of them knew me, they'd probably remember me as the creepy quiet nerdy kid with the really bad hair.

Regardless, I entered my high school, and there they were, 16 of the class of '94--and I remembered all of them. It freaked me out to no end. Most of my friends didn't go to college, and none of them were in my school, and I believe the only person I knew in my graduating class was my sister, who sat next to me at the ceremony (that was a great day), so perusing my fellow college classmen wasn't much of a jaunt down memory lane. Checking out my high school graduating class--11 years later--opened up the floodgates of shame and resentment. I never want to go back to those days, but I read carefully through all of their profiles. I narrowed my eyes at the evil snobby bitch who was my classmate from fourth grade through high school. She even went to the same church as us. When God didn't strike her down upon entry, I began to lose my faith.

All of them except myself and two others still live on Staten Island and all of them except one is still unmarried--and I'd totally do the married chick. I keep checking back to see if anyone else has resurfaced; it's odd to me that these people still exist.

rock 'n' roadwarrior

One of my favorite concert spots is this place in San Francisco called Cafe Du Nord. It's very small and it's kinda classy looking, but not overtly so. I think it's in the Castro district, which I guess is a predominantly gay area of town, and that's fine. The streets are clean, the people are friendly, and you can walk around at night without worrying about anything, because the criminal element is generally homophobic.

I love cities, but I've become less of a fan of San Francisco. It's situated on what is probably the most beautiful piece of real estate in the United States. The tiny peninsula is perfect for viewing the bay, it's hilly land enclosures and the Pacific Ocean. It's also a very liberal city, which I love, but for a place so liberal, you'd figure it'd take care of its people more. It reminds me of New York City when I was growing up--dirty, angry, poor and full of homeless. I realize you can't help anyone, but the place is also kinda rude in a really snobbish way, which it really shouldn't be because they all just wish they lived in Brooklyn anyway.

I think I'm just hating because once I was at some wannabe schma bar off Van Ness and the people who worked there were real dicks and told us all to go back to New York under their breaths--instead of saying it to our faces like they would in New York. Meanwhile, everyone at our table was California born and bred; I was the only one from New York City, and I'd already been living in California for 3 or more years. Honestly, other than that one incident, I always have a great time in San Francisco. It was the first place I saw when I came out here the first time and it's a part of the reason why I moved out here in the first place. It also has the best taquerias ever, and El Farolito on Mission is one of my favorite places in the universe.

I also always get lost there. It's not really gridded out like other cities. Streets cut and slash all over the place. There's some numbered streets but they always seem to be interrupted by some named streets, and it always throws me off.

I'm just rambling. I went down to San Francisco on Sunday to see Giant Drag at Cafe Du Nord. I was supposed to see them in Orangevale, which is much closer to where I'm at (though still really far away), but that show was cancelled for some reason. I was bummed, figuring I'd missed another chance to see them, but on Friday, I got an e-mail from someone at Interscope telling me that I had tickets to the show in SF, and she was working on getting the photo. I asked around, but no one could go, or no one wanted to. We'd all just gotten through a rough stretch at work and everyone was really beat. Plus, who wants to do six hours worth of driving on a Sunday?

I tried my best to get a photographer in the city to shoot the show, but no dice, and by 4:30pm on Sunday, I thought that it'd be pretty pointless to go down. I mulled it over for a while--I mull everything over for a while--and I had such an itch to go see them, I couldn't sit still. Their album was just so good. So, at literally the last minute, I left--at 5pm. I picked up a camera from one of my bosses and just went, and it felt good. I used to do that kind of shit all the time in New York--just go somewhere for a few hours and come back.

I made great time to the city and I didn't even get lost this time. Even though I really didn't take directions on how to get there. I showed up with 10 minutes to spare before Giant Drag came on; they were playing second, opening for a band called The Like.

Giant Drag was so good. It's a really cozy performance area, and I was standing right up front to take pictures. They all came out sucky, as evident in these cell phone pictures, but I really didn't care. They wore cheesy drugstore antler hats they bought at Walgreens. Micah played drums and synthesizer at the same time, and Annie belted her heart out, played sweet grungy riffs and babbled vulgar stories about semen drinking contests in between songs. I just wanted them to keep playing, but I think they only did about half an hour. It was still worth the long, lonely drive (and the miles worth of fog I had to negotiate once I got into the valley).

I stuck around for The Like, and they were good too--a lot more polished, but a lot less gutsy. I ended up talking to Annie at the merch table after the show. I said they were really good, and I really liked the album like a big dumb fanboy (I am), and she gave me a sticker, even though I didn't buy anything. I thought that talking to these kinda people all the time would stop me from getting starstruck, but I still do every time, for the ones I really like.

tic-tac-global thermonuclear war

The '80s were obsessed with nuclear warfare. I think we were pretty much all convinced that it was going to happen. Even the dumbest song of all time "Everybody Have Fun Tonight" by Wang Chung dedicated a whole bridge to the fact that we were "on the edge of oblivion." And I guess we were. I guess everyone believed that some crazy power monger was going to push a button and we're all going to be gone in the blink of an eye, so we'd may as well "Wang Chung"--whatever that means.

Of course, no one pushed the button. We're all still here, and I think we're all a little bit bummed about it. No boom. All that fear and fuss and money spent for no reason. Kind of sounds familiar. I watched War Games today for the first time in what has to be over a decade. It looks super janky now, but I remember the first time I saw it, I was like, damn. This could totally happen. Watching it now, I picked up on a marijuana reference early on in the film that completely escaped me back then. One of my favorite things about watching '80s movies now that I'm older and...older...is finding all the pot references.

Other than that, though. I'm not sure if War Games stands the harsh test of time. Obviously, all the equipment is way outdated, and that's fine, but I'm not sure if the film's writers had any grasp of the capabilities of computers. I mean, I don't either, and I guess back when the movie came out no one really did, so just about anything was plausible, but now that the human race and the PC have come a long way together, cracking NORAD with an eight baud modem makes it difficult to suspend disbelief. I mean, was it really like that? Before Windows, could you just type something into a prompt and the machine would basically do whatever you asked? If so, I think the technology has taken a step back. I used to have a Commodore 128k and I remember typing in the "Load "*", 8,1" code to get a crappy game to load up from a floppy disc, but that's about it.

I didn't realize how blatantly message-heavy War Games is. It basically boils down to the only way to win a nuclear war is not to enter into one, which seems like pretty sound advice, but they went ahead and drove that point home about 800 times toward the end. My favorite character is the crazy programmer guy who created the war computer, Stephen Falken. He talks about the dinosaurs a lot, and how the bees will take over after we're gone, and how extinction is inevitable. He seemed comforted by that. He must have remembered to Wang Chung. Other things I picked up on, that I hadn't before, was that Ally Sheedy was kind of a babe back then and--this might be hard to explain--but when Matthew Broderick first breaks into the government system (unbeknownst to him of course), he asks Ally Sheedy, hoping to impress her, if she'd like to hear the computer talk. She does, of course, and he switches on some speaker box thing that creates a garbled digital voice that "interprets signals from the computer and turns them into sound." Great. But through out the movie after that point, every time the confront the maniacal program Joshua, it speaks in that voice, even when they're not at Matthew Broderick's computer. It made me wonder: Is this speaker box standard government issue, or is Matthew Broderick just hearing this voice in his head, because he feels guilty about causing this extinction-threatening scenario?

It's been a long, boring day.

downer

Now that the magazine's gone (GONE! DAMN IT!), the last two days, I've gone about reclaiming my life. I took the whole day off yesterday, and it was just about the best thing ever. I sat on the couch in the company of my foster dog and watched shitty shows on MTV like Next and Making the Band 3, the latter had way too many golden moments for me to mention. All I know is, I'm making a point of seeing the finale tomorrow night, because, as Pahdiddy-widdy said in the commercials, "Y'all wanna see who's in the band?! I wanna see who's in the muthafuckin band!!1@!!@" I played a few hours worth of video games, and then went to Red Lobster with my roommate and had the "broiled seafood feast." The cool thing about Red Lobster is that every meal is dubbed a "feast." And "feast" is a fun word to say. We returned home after stopping at the liquor store where I purchased a bottle of Bacardi and a two-liter of Royal Crown cola for mixing purposes. We settled in and I introduced her to the wonders of On-Demand cable from Comcast. Since we have all the movie channels, we have a wide selection of free movies to choose from. We watched The Life Aquatic, which neither of us had seen, and though I heard a lot of people didn't like it, I really enjoyed it, especially the soundtrack, and I think Cate Blanchett might be the best actress working in Hollywood right now.

Today, I didn't go in till noon. I took lunch at 2pm, got back at 3, then diddled around on Myspace for a couple hours and went home at 5. I put all my clothes away and tidied up my room. It turns out that I do have a carpet. I was shocked and amazed. I still need to dust and vacuum, but I didn't want to overdo anything. I poured myself a rum and coke and relaxed in my clutter-free room. The plan was to watch the three episodes of Lost I had on tape, leading into tonight's new episode, but shit didn't go down like it was supposed to.

First of all, Lost wasn't new tonight. I was really pissed at first, but it gave me time to go out to dinner and watch my taped episodes at a leisurely pace. The first taped episode (to avoid spoilers or anything like that, I'll just call it the Michelle Rodriguez episode), which originally aired while I was in Seattle, was pretty damn dope, though the big "fucking wheelchair" moment happened in the middle, and it kinda went flat from there. Still, a very good episode. The second I thought I had on tape turned out to be an hour of Fit TV. I'm not at all a fitness person, but I watch Fit TV sometimes at night, because, for whatever reason, watching people work out puts my mind at ease and allows me to sleep. It's odd, because when I had a gym membership, and actually went, working out only made me more aware of how out of shape I was and how I was probably gonna die soon. Not exactly relaxing. I guess when I rushed home to tape the pre-Thanksgiving episode, I forgot to change the channel. I was bummed.

Luckily, last week's episode, the Kate episode, which originally aired while I was slaving away in the editorial gulag, was really fucking good. I like watching Kate get all emo, because she's cuddly in that "life is totally overwhelming me sort of way." I think she's still the person I'd most like to have save me from drowning. I've put a lot of thought into it. Is that weird? Anyway, the Kate episode was super dope, and I'd like to go into why it was so dope, but I don't want to ruin anything for anyone. The only thing that bothered me was that the scenes for the next episodes started off with the vague "coming next on Lost" anouncement, which means it's anyone's guess as to when the next new episode will be. I don't know why they have to dick us around like this. Just put on the damn episodes, because I really want to know what's going to happen next. And I totally get freaked out everytime they watch that damn instructional movie.

christmas wishlist part three

Money. I wouldn't need much. Just $57, 376.53 so I can pay off my student loans. In case you are from a country outside the United States, here is a list of currency exchanges so you could see how much that would be in whatever denomination you may use. Thank you for your time, and don't go to college, because it's like a pyramid scheme, and they don't teach you anything. Amen.

48,774.78 Euros

32,906.90 British Pounds

59,158,253.75 South Korean Wan

66,560.44 Canadian Dollars

76,794.45 Australian Dollars

29,448,504.02 Chilean Pesos

6,905,475.72 Japanese Yen

the fellowship disbands

It's 10 to 2am, and I've played my part in this drama--this magazine production. I'm sticking around, though. It's out of my hands and I'm tearing myself apart that something's wrong, that there's a mistake I didn't catch, that my career is over. Really, I shouldn't be too pissed off about the latter, but still. It's definitely this weird love hate thing. There's a couple other people here at the office, but still I feel detached. I have a paper cup of red wine. I have Annie Hardy's gutsy vocals in my headphones. I have a paycheck I haven't deposited. And I'm taking the day off tomorrow.

in other news

I was finally able to do laundry so I no longer have to wear underpants of questionable cleanliness, like I have been for an undisclosed amount of days. I am happy to be, once again, well stocked in boxers that smell like fabric softner and don't cling to my nether regions.

I also returned home to find that my roommate returned home from a good ol' drunken hootenanny with his friends and, after he watched his buds kegstand beer from the month-old keg in my backyard, ran into the bathroom--our bathroom--and hurled. There is now something that resembles a salad plastered on my bathroom wall. Right next to the sink.

That is all.

one way ticket

I just bought my ticket home on JetBlue for Christmas Eve. It's the red-eye, so I'll get in at 8am on the 24th. I haven't bought the ticket back yet, because, honestly, I'm not sure when I want to come back. I know I will, but...well, I prefer to leave that open-ended right now.

I got the ticket real cheap, which is good, and I haven't been spending that much money either, which is better. Hopefully I'll have some money for some Christmas gifts. I can't believe it's December already...Ugh. I say that every year.

We're almost done with the magazine. Just one and a half more days. Then I'll start worrying about everything else.

why i'm the way i am

I've really been feeling the spirit lately. For some reason, I'm really looking forward to this Christmas--maybe because I can't wait for this year to be over.

One Christmas, I was determined to stay up all night until Santa Claus came. I totally believed that he existed, but I guess I wanted to meet him and holla at my boy. Santa hooked me up with plenty of cool shit in the past, and I wanted to show him my appreciation.

Usually, on Christmas Eve, we were at my relative's house in New Jersey. Christmas Eve was for my father's side of the family. I don't remember why, but we were hosting Christmas Eve at our house that year. I'm not sure how old I was, but I couldn't have been older than the third grade, because we were still in the old duplex in the shitty suburban part of Staten Island (which I suppose is a label you could give to 89% of the borough).

Gifts were opened from all the relatives, and all the dinner and cake had given way to coffee. Most everyone had gone, my sister was put to bed, and I was still awake, anxiously waiting to meet Mr. Claus. I could be mixing up Christmases, but I think it was unseasonably hot that year, like in the 70s or something, which is so not the norm for New York in late December.

The adults were trying to get me to bed, but I was stubborn. I wasn't like my sister, I was always a night owl anyway, and though I did go to bed at a normal time for a child my age, I usually laid awake in bed much of the night before I finally drifted off. Not much has changed in that respect. Sometime after midnight, the adults, especially my parents, started to get antsy, and encouraged me to go to sleep. They told me things like, "Santa won't come if you're awake," but I figured that was total horseshit. I mean, he just had to show up eventually, and why would someone who was so down with kids not want to meet one? I wasn't a perfect angel, but I knew I wasn't on the Naughty list.

At about 2am, I still held fast to my decree that I would not go to bed until Santa showed up. I was deliriously tired, and my parents became more adamant that Santa would not show up until I went to sleep. I think they gave me some scientific reason why that was so, but I don't remember. As a side note, that old duplex had a bathroom connected to my parent's bedroom, the master bedroom. Every year around Christmas time, that bathroom would go out of order. We never questioned it, basically because we never noticed, I guess. That's where my parents kept the gifts.

I was yawning and getting cranky from lack of sleep and my mom and dad just wanted me to go to bed so they could put out the gifts and go to sleep themselves. I think I was half unconscious when I was brought into my room. I remember laying in bed pleading with my mom to let me stay awake so I could see Santa and she kept with the whole "you won't be able to see him and he won't come unless you sleep" line. But I pleaded...and pleaded...and pleaded...and....

"James. There's no Santa Claus," my mom said. "Go to sleep."

And I did. To this day she laughingly denies that ever happened. But I know it did. One day I'll get her to fess up.

VICTORY!!!

Sure. It's sad and shallow, but I will reap my .1 victory over I'm-not-mentioning-names without guilt.

christmas wishlist part two

Clearly, this is the coolest thing ever.

christmas wishlist part one

Audrey Kawasaki is my new dream woman. Go check out her art because it's pretty. And then go buy me that print.

the plus one

For some reason, I was reminded of something that happened to me while I was down in San Diego while I was driving back home from my brief Thanksgiving break.

First off, I haven't seen the last three weeks of Lost. I decided to tape tonight's instead of watching it so I can see it all at once, and I plan on doing that early next week, once all this magazine business is once again put to rest. I'm going through serious withdrawals, though. I feel the need to go on excursions.

Anyway, I was in San Diego interviewing Coheed and Cambria, this band that kinda sounds like Rush. I got to talk to the lead singer, and he seemed like a pretty swell guy. I also had two tickets to the show, and since I didn't have anything better to do, I decided to stick around and watch them, even though I'd seen them the night before at this really small bar (and they rocked the place).

That night's show, at Soma, was sold out, but I had an extra ticket, because I had a plus one. I have plus ones a lot. I always ask publicists for plus ones, mostly out of habit, but oddly enough, it's like pulling teeth to get someone to go to a free show. I actually tried to give my extra ticket to this really cute waitress at this Irish pub I had lunch at, but that didn't go so well. While in San Diego, I'd gotten in the habit of asking locals for directions, or where I should go to get something to eat. The Irish pub was one such suggestion. I asked the cute waitress how to get to Soma. She wasn't sure, but she soon returned with detailed instructions and then asked me who I was going to see. When I told her, she said that she was jealous because she really wanted to go to that show. Without thinking about it, I let her know that I had an extra ticket, which I probably shouldn't have done. I think it made her uncomfortable, and I felt like a big jerk. But when she handed me my check, she wrote "Have fun at the show tonight!" on it, and that was pretty cool.

So I was at Soma with an extra ticket. After the long line had filed in, I strolled up to the will call to get my tickets and then turned away from the window and said "Does anyone need a ticket?" I was soon mobbed, but the first person who got to me--I was the oldest person at this concert mind you--was this beautiful girl (it seemed like everyone in that city was beautiful) in a tube top. She was probably 17 or something, but, to put it tactfully, she was very well endowed, and she wasn't shy about it.

"How much?!" she asked quickly. She was with another girl and a guy.

No sooner did she ask than two painfully geeky and awkward young guys came over.

"You have a ticket?!" One of them had one already, but the other kid, this lanky high school kid in an Iron Maiden T-shirt did not. Coheed and Cambria is really kinda geeky, the lead singer does a comic book and shit, and I could see how stoked they both were to get in the show, but the girl asked me first, so I told them, "sorry, but if she doesn't want it, it's yours."

I turned back to the girl and I told her $10. The tickets were $15, I think, but I'd gotten them for free, so I really didn't care. It was an all-ages show, obviously, and in California that means no booze, but they had plenty of candy for sale, and I had a hankering for Twix.

"Do you want it?" I asked her.

She paused and I could tell that she did, but she had to call someone first. I assume, her boyfriend who couldn't be there. She was like, "you only have one?" I said, yeah.

While she was on the phone, the two geeky kids said they'd give me $100 for the ticket, but when I called them on it, they said they couldn't. I have to admit, I was kinda hoping the girl wouldn't take it, even though she really did have a great rack. There. I said it.

I was trying to act like this whole ordeal was cutting into my day, but I was really getting a kick out of it. I remember being a kid and how concerts weren't as easy for me to get into as they are now. The three kids were acting like this was the defining moment of their summer, and I was kinda the gatekeeper to the magical land of rock. Or something like that.

Finally, the girl got off the phone and walked back toward me. The conversation didn't seem to go well. I said, "C'mon, yes or no?" She stomped her foot once, huffed, and then said, "Nevermind, let them take it." I hope she held it over her boyfriend's head that he guilted her into not seeing the concert. Meanwhile, geek camp was stoked. Dude in the Iron Maiden shirt might have peed himself. I sold them the ticket for $10, but I know I could have jacked up the price. They would have paid it, and I saw that they had the money.

The concert was really good, again. I had a great time, and chatted up some cute indie hipster lady working at the candy counter about Bright Eyes, who'd played there a few nights before. Sometimes inane knowledge is a good thing. At one point between bands, I bumped into geek camp again, having the time of their lives--at least for that week. They were like, "hey dude! You rock!"

I know, kids, I know.