A Brief History of Time

This morning I realized it has been a year since I left New Jersey. Suddenly, a year has become a small increment of time. When did that happen?

I remember when a year seemed like FOR-EVVV-ER. But now, it has already been a year since I left New Jersey. It seems like yesterday. Funny thing is, it also feels like a hundred years ago. I can't believe it's been a year; I can't believe it's only been a year. It's strange. My time in New Jersey seems an entire other life to me now. Sometimes I have to remind myself that it was real and I really did live there. I was there for a year and have been gone for a year... two big years in my life that blur together and become one. In my mind, past time contracts, expands, and folds in on itself until the concept of a year is almost rendered meaningless. In the end, events have happened, how much does it even matter when they happened?

At any rate, right now, New Jersey almost seems like a dream to me. But this is not the first time I've looked back and had that feeling. I think I have always had a bad tendency to sleepwalk through life. It's why I can't remember high school too well... I just wasn't present a lot of the time. I mean, I know I was there, had some good times, passed a few tests, made a few friends (one, actually), but I feel like I never fully engaged, body and soul. I just put my head down and powered through, unconsciously keeping out of the way of most people and most potentially embarrassing situations. Not that high school was any great loss, probably, but the point is high school certainly wasn't the last time I've sleepwalked. I don't know, I guess it's a preemptive defense mechanism against real feelings or experiences that could become painful memories down the road. Yeah, that's the ticket. Ahh, but there is no good without the bad, right? I have to keep reminding myself of this! I can't be scared.

In this last year since I left New Jersey I think I have done a lot better job of staying awake to the beauty and pain and joy and sorrow of life. I still go catatonic now and then, but I'm working on it.

Then again, maybe it's all a dream within a dream within a dream, Inception style? Shit, where's my little dreidel? I gotta see if I'm still in my head. Maybe if I keep writing, I'll wash up on the shore of my unconscious. That'd be fun! Happy Labor Day.

In Progress

Welcome to the first post written for the newly designed blog. Blogspot made some shiny new templates available and I couldn't resist the chance to tinker. It is still in progress. 
In progress. I like that. A blog in progress, a life in progress... where am I today? Am I moving forward? Backward? Sideways? Whichever way I'm moving, am I enjoying the movement? Yes to all those questions at once, I think. I think I am moving in every direction at once. Not that there's anything wrong with that.


I was listening to a podcast the other day and heard a quote I quite liked. So happens it is from a rabbi, but that is besides the point. So happens the podcast was WTF with Marc Maron, a really good stand up comedy themed interview show I have really been enjoying lately. Listen to it for free here! But that is besides the point. The quote, and the point, is this:
If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am not for others, what am I? And if not now, when?

Rabbi Hillel

How's that for inspiration to get off my lazy ass? So I have.. sorta. I have now begun the teacher certification program at Palm Beach State College. I passed the certification test for teaching 6-12th grade English. These classes will hopefully prepare me for actually being in a classroom. Then I'll need to get an actual job, etc, etc... For now, I go to class. A college man once again. I have books and homework and a student ID card and everything. It's a little weird. Not sure if it will be easier or harder than the first time around.

Anyway, now for the Woody Allen portion of this post: Jesse recently sent this picture to me and I love it. I wanted to post it just because I think it is so cool. Gambling and being a retro cool nebbish never go out of style. Right??


Finally, here is a pretty picture of the sunrise in Boynton Beach. Recently I had to work overnights, from 12:30am-6:00am. While generally unpleasant, it did give me a reason to be up early enough to see the sunrise on the beach, something I am pretty sure I had never bothered to do in all my years in Florida. It was worth doing... once. I need sleep. But, hey, there it is, proof. The sun does also rise!

Throwed Rolls and Cowboy Whores (NSFW) (Not really.. but there are nipples)

I set off from San Francisco, emotions and thoughts veering wildly in every direction at once, but my car firmly planted and pointing straight towards Vegas. Of course. Where else would I go when all else fails and I am down to my last few bucks? That last great American desert oasis of hope. Where dreams come and go but the stench of desperation clings and suffocates. Well, speaking for myself, anyway. But seriously, it was great to see Dan and Kash and the rest of the guys again. I am proud to say that I got Kash re-hooked on poker... he once was lost, but now he's found.

After Vegas I headed to a place I was sorry to have missed on my way out west... Tombstone, AZ. I've always wanted to go to an old cowboy town and this is probably the granddaddy of them all. Land of Earp and Holliday, the Clantons and the OK Corral, the Crystal Palace Saloon and Boothill. Stuff of legend and many, many movies. I mosied down the main drag for a while before I siddled up to the bar at Big Nose Kate's Saloon, formerly the Grand Hotel built in 1881, now named after Tombstone's first and most famous "shady lady". The BBQ sandwich was tasty and the Sioux City Sarsaparilla was.. um.. good and sarsy. Plus, there was some really cool paintings and stained glass work in the room. When I get my own whore house someday, this is how I want it to look. I mean, I know they just took a lot of these ideas from Better Whore House Living magazine, but still... pretty cool.

After lunch I swung by the OK Coral and Boothill... although I was just a leeetle too cheap to pay to go inside them. I got the idea from the outside. I spent most of the morning just wandering the streets wishing I was wearing a cowboy hat and a six shooter. I weren't looking for no trouble but I also had no intention of backing down from none, neither. Anybody looked at me crosswise and I'd shoot 'em down where they stood. In my brain I was your Huckleberry.. either a sheriff, a bad guy, or a mysterious hired gun, it didn't really matter. I had my horse (a fine black Korean-born filly) hitched nearby and I was ready to take all comers and ride off into the afternoon haze, vanishing like a spectre, leaving the townsfolk to wonder whether I was real or a phantasmagorical instrument of retribution sent from the heavens...  It's a hell of a thing, killing a man. Take away all he's got and all he's ever gonna have. Well, that's how it went down in my brain, anyway. With apologies to Clint for stealing his lines and persona.

From Tombstone it was a relatively short drive to El Paso, where I got to see Margaret and Mia again. They are doing great and looking well and as I write this Mia has just graduated from second grade and is smarter than all of us. We had awesome Mexican food at Margaret's favorite place, Lucy's Restaurant, where I mistook an overturned pool table for some kind of new, or possibly archaic, bar game I was unaware of. In the moment, as I fiddled with what turned out to be the legs of the table, trying desperately to figure out what they did, I genuinely had no idea it was just a pool table on it's side. Even after Margaret laughed at me I still didn't catch on right away. It must have been that my mind was exhausted from being on the road... yeah, that's the ticket.

Next up was a stop I had been excited about since I saw Pee Wee's Big Adventure in 1985... The Alamo! I'm not sure I ever really knew what exactly happened there until recently, but the words were always iconic in my mind. THE ALAMO. I could not drive through Texas and not stop for a look see. Turns out it is right in the heart of downtown San Antonio and it is smaller than you might imagine but, you know, still old and historic and stuff. Davy Crocket wasn't there, but his statue was. And they still sell coonskin caps in the gift shop. I stayed the night in San Antonio and also walked along the famed River Walk. This is a mall and a bunch of other shops and restaurants along a below-street-level river, again right in the heart of downtown. It's quite the happening hang out. I had a fine walk and some genuine tourist trap quality Tex-Mex fajitas before retiring for the evening.

The next day, somewhere between San Antone' and Houston, I saw a sign for Joel's Bar-B-Q. Well, obviously I had to do this. There's a picture of Foxy at Joel's. Sad to say the sandwich was mediocre, but the place had that middle of nowhere Texas charm and was clearly a favorite with the locals. I personally witnessed two separate big ol' country fat asses slugging beers and ribs before driving off in their pick-ups. So, if you're ever in wherever-the-hell-I-was, TX, stop by my joint for some good people watching and some totally average food. It's not like there are many other options.

From Joel's it was a long, slow drive to Biloxi, MS (who knew it was spring break and that everybody and their mothers was driving to New Orleans and thereby clogging up my road?). I checked into my hotel, completely dog-ass tired but determined to get me some hot casino action before bedtime. I took a shower and set off to find the Beau Rivage casino, which has a reputation for being the Bellagio of the Gulf Coast. Well, once I started to walk the casino, it took me about a minute to realize that Biloxi is basically inbred hillbilly bizarro Vegas. I mean, no offense. Not that there's anything wrong with that. I guess having lived in Vegas, I'm spoiled, but to me Biloxi was just not that exciting. Everybody else (the inbred hillbillies) seemed to be having a good time, but this was not the place for me. Hey, good for them for recovering from Katrina, though!

The next day was a short one, as I made a pit stop only a couple hours from Biloxi, in Robertsdale, AL, where my dad's cousin Sandy lives. As they might say in Alabama, he's kin. And kin is kin. Sandy and his wife showed me a great time, actually.. including a memorable trip to the house of throwed rolls and fried okra, Lambert's Cafe. And by "throwed rolls" they mean exactly that. Periodically throughout your meal a waiter will circle the room pushing a cart full of big, fresh from the oven, steaming hot and yeasty pull-apart dinner rolls. The smell will catch you first; then you'll hear the waiter's call; then you'll see people raising their hands, so you'll raise yours, too; than the waiter, across the room and wearing an oven mitt, will grab up a roll from the tray, wind up like a baseball pitcher, and hurl a sinking fastroll right into your outstretched hands. The roll is so fresh that as your hands squeeze around it to secure your catch, bits of bun will break off and go flying, so that by the end of your meal the floor will look like two vast armies of bread soldiers just had an epic battle. After you have secured your roll, still reeling from trying to understand what just happened, another waiter will come around with a big jar of apple butter and you will say 'yes please'. And this dance will repeat itself at least three times before you go. These rolls are damn good. The fried catfish, aforementioned fried okra, fried potatoes and onions, and fried apples were outstanding, too. Plus, they were fried.

Well, I guess that about wraps up this story. I spent the night in Alabama, then the next day cruised on into F-L-A and the rest is history. My past has now caught up with my present. If not yet in real life, at least in the blogosphere.

What's a Hypoluxo?

After three months away from blogging, I return to it 3,271 miles away from where I wrote last. Foxy the car and I once again drove across this great land of ours, and now I find myself in a cold, dark room in hot, sunny South Florida. No, I have not bottomed out and landed inevitably, irrevocably, in prison.. I am just at work. Although, some might say working at a TV station is akin to prison! Not me, though, I would never say that.

At any rate, a lot has happened to get me to this point, obviously, but it is too much to explain in depth. So, as Inigo Montoya would say to the Dread Pirate Roberts, let me sum up: Boy quits his job in the big city; packs all he owns in a tiny (but lovable) car; strikes out for points west, zig-zagging his way across the country until he reaches the dock of the bay; doesn't have much of a plan and even less money, but has the absolute time of his life for six months while sleeping on his friends' couch (see: all the previous blog entries); all the times in between those times of his life, he tries in vain to find a job before his resources run out and he's forced to move on; in the nick of time, he finds a job (!); promptly quits it after two days (??); packs his car again the next day and leaves, leaving his heart behind; sees some sights along the way back east (was a huckleberry in Tombstone, AZ; will never forget The Alamo; embraced his inner fried-okra-eating country boy in Alabama); arrives in South Florida where at last Foxy can be relieved of her burden, but where the boy still doesn't have much of a plan.

Part 2: The Barefoot Mailman Strikes Back. So, now, here I am in Hypoluxo, FL, the unlikely name given to the "Home of the Barefoot Mailman", which was, apparently, like the Florida version of the Pony-Express. Learn something new everyday. Anyway, I have a part-time job at the local PBS station, am staying with my parents, and am not entirely sure what will happen next. For the time being, I am very grateful to have a place to land and some money coming in. I have also taken the certification test to become an english teacher. I am awaiting results. Teaching has been in the back of my mind as a career option for a long time, so maybe now I will give it a try. Although, I must say, it is very weird to imagine myself as that guy. You know, that guy up there teaching stuff... in my mind I think I still identify closer with the kid sitting at his desk in the back of the room. But I do like teaching, as a fulfilling concept of a career. I just don't know, yet... I could just run away again and solve all my problems by moving to a new city! That works every time, right?

Part 2, the prequel: What about this job in San Francisco I say I quit after two days? The fuck was that about? Well, I'll tell ya.. I guess I just don't have the manual labor gene. And it wasn't even like real manual labor! For two days I was a baker at a branch of a large bakery chain in the city. You know how I love to bake and eat all manner of baked goods... well, turns out I did not love taking them out of the freezer and putting them into the oven for nine hours straight. I also did not love having to yell out "Hot snickerdoodles!" or some other such nonsense, when a batch of cookies came out of the oven. I did not like this most of all, actually. Maybe if I could have quietly gone about my business, pretending in my mind that I was somewhere else, I could have lasted a while longer. But, as it was, I just couldn't abide. So, I turned in my apron and, having not many other options (out of money; emotionally in need of a place to unpack, literally and metaphorically), I decided I would have to call off the great SF experiment and head on back to Florida. Worse things have happened, but it is a shame; I love SF and loved being there to share it with Danie and Jesse. Maybe I will make it back there some day, hopefully with a little money and a job in hand.

Meanwhile, as my friend Justin said, my life for the last year has been kind of how you might imagine Kris Kristoferson's life... without the talent or the booze or the groupies, of course. As I drove through Texas (for what seemed like weeks), Justin told me that all my stories lately have begun with "I was in a diner last night in San Antonio"... or a motel in Benson, AZ; or Mobile; or a casino in Wheeling, WV; or Kansas City; or Devil's Lake, ND; etc... I have been on the road! Living the life! From dusty backwaters to big cities and miles and miles of road in between. It has been a once in a lifetime experience I will never forget and I was so happy to have been able to share it with most of the people who actually read this thing. I would have loved to stay in SF a while longer, yes, but still and all I wouldn't trade any of my experiences and I am very happy I made the choices I made and did the things I did and saw the things I saw and lived the life I've lead. More details about some of the places I went on my way back east will appear on the blog soon.

And now I'm in my parents' home... foxy is unpacked.. it was and continues to be a good adventure. South Florida is really very nice, despite the jokes you may have heard or will hear (from me, probably) in the future. Also, not to contradict the title of this blog, but I realize now I need even less than what can actually fit in my Hyundai Accent. After not seeing most of my stuff for over 6 months, I had either forgotten about it or wondered why I once thought I needed it in the first place. It's all just stuff! Next time I will pack even lighter. Did you hear that? Next time....

I'm not even supposed to be here today...

Whenever I get a little down, wondering when in the hell I am going to get a job and when in the hell I am going to be able to stop worrying about my "future," I try to take a step back and put things in perspective. The truth is, "I'm not even supposed to be here today!" as Dante famously says in the early '90s no-budget indie comedy classic, "Clerks". I don't mean it exactly like Dante does, though.

I am not unhappy that I am somewhere I am not supposed to be. In fact, I am happy that I am somewhere I am not supposed to be. And by all reasonable expectations, I really am not "supposed" to be in San Francisco. Following reason and logic and prudence alone, I had no business quitting a job and leaving New York and I really should not be here.. according to the "rules," I am not supposed to be in San Francisco today. Well, I am awfully glad that I am in San Francisco today and when I think about this I realize that each day here is a gift I might not have had, and that makes them all that much sweeter.

Jesus, this sounds like I beat cancer or something, doesn't it? Shit. I don't mean to be that dramatic or equate my bullshit/semi-irresponsible wanderings with any legitimate life or death accomplishments. But, I think you get my meaning...

Anyway, what am I doing with all these days I shouldn't have had? Funny you should ask... I just so happen to have a few stories I haven't told yet.

Let's see... first of all, let me put my recommendation in for Lake Tahoe right now. If you haven't been, believe me, you should all go there! It is PRETTY! You know, nature and stuff! Go there, climb on some rocks, breathe deeply the fresh mountain air, you will feel good about yourself, I promise. A few months ago (pre-snow, as you can see) Jesse and I began to feel the itch, the kind of itch only a poker game can soothe. We decided to take a little drive for a one night stay in South Lake Tahoe, about three hours away, straddling the border of California and the beautiful, beautiful legal gaming establishment mecca that is the state of Nevada. The casinos were pretty nice, the action was pretty good, and we gambled the night away as planned. OK, a casino is a casino, I know; we love to gamble, but maybe you couldn't give two shits. Point is, Lake Tahoe is fuckin' beautiful and you should all go there! In the end I left most of my money at the casino, but my mind was rich (see what I did there?) with amazing scenery and I was fully satisfied. Also supremely satisfying was Heidi's, the breakfast restaurant directly across the street from our little motel. Joel says, "Go to Heidi's for the best corned beef hash! You won't be disappointed!"

On the way home we stopped at an indian casino just to check it out.. This sign about sums it up.

Back in San Francisco and wandering rather aimlessly one afternoon, Jesse and I stumbled upon The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill, and yet another lovely man date developed. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Anyway, "The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill" is the name of a movie about the real-life flock of cherry-headed conures that live mostly on Telegraph Hill, which is only a few blocks from where we live. These are famous birds! And I fed them! And it felt funny! Hey, that tickles! When we found them there was a man there feeding them from a big bag of sunflower seeds and he offered us some to try it. He did tell us not to post the pictures on the internet, though, because it is illegal to feed the parrots.. oops, too late, the pictures are clearly already here, but I promise no birds were harmed in the making of this blog and all names have been changed to protect the innocent (this "man" I speak of may not have even been a man.. maybe he was, maybe he wasn't.. what's it to ya, Johnny Law?).

Sometime before or after the parrots (who cares when, really?) we all went to a pinata party. Yes, a pinata party. This one was mostly for hipster-inclined adults and took place at the hipster-oriented art gallery literally at the corner of our street, 30 seconds away. So, you see, minimal effort was required on our part, there was promise of free drinks, and these pinatas were no ordinary pinatas. We could not refuse this invitation. What you are looking at to the left there is a whole living room set made of pinata... Weee! I will save the details, as Danie already told the story so well (with pics and video) on her blog here. But let me assure you, pinatas were, in fact, harmed in the making of this party.. violently, viciously, repeatedly harmed. There are more pics and a longer, more embarrassing video here, featuring Danie, Jesse, and me standing around in the front row looking upon the scene awkwardly. Well, I was definitely looking awkward, anyway. I was thinking something like, "These hipsters are ridiculous, why do they anger me so?, fuck, it's crowded in here, I can't move forward or backward, I'm hot, I'm cold, what do I do with my hands?, I need another drink so I have something to do with my hands, the drink line is too long, fuck, I hate crowds, somebody just touched me, yikes!, I hope these angry emo kids don't hit me with that bat!, I want out before this gets ugly!, Ooooo, candy!, Can we go now?, Is there free food here?"

Next, here a few pictures from various excursions that I just wanted to share with you quickly. One day I went to the Exploritorium in the Presidio, another day I went to the California Academy of Sciences in Golden Gate Park, and another day I went ice skating on the Embarcadero with Danie.. Look, there she gooooooooes in the red jacket. The turtle was at the Cal Academy and he moved about as slow as I did on ice skates. The best part of all this activity is I spent exactly zero dollars to do all of it! I went on the once-a-month free days at the museums and Danie's work sponsored the free ice skating. We even got free pizza at the ice rink! In fact, we got just a little too excited by free pizza and quite overdid it. Thankfully, I did not fall, for if I had there would have been pizza puke all over the ice and that would not have been pretty and I would not have felt good about myself.

Just last week - and just a day before he was deemed "too fat to fly" by Southwest Airlines - I got a chance to see Kevin Smith do a q & a session at the Macworld 2010 expo. Ahh, so.. it all comes together: I go to Macworld (again for free!), Kevin Smith was there, he wrote and directed "Clerks," I enjoyed his show very much, I get inspired to write a little, and so I steal one of his lines as the title and unifying theme of one of my blog posts. Incidentally, I can attest to the fact that he ain't that fat in real life and Southwest really screwed things up, bad. Also, by the way, Macworld was as fine a conglomeration of geeks, nerds, and dorks, myself included, as you'll find anywhere this side of the Mississippi. The nerd cowboy in the picture to the left is a long way from the nerd ranch (according to his t-shirt), but he found plenty of other like minded cowboys at this rodeo.

Finally, here is one more picture from the end of another long walk through the streets of San Francisco. This is a shot from China Beach, in the posh Sea Cliff neighborhood, overlooking some orange bridge they tell me is pretty famous.. Once again, I wasn't even supposed to be there..

Del Boca Vista

One day not too long ago I was wasting time, looking at stuff on the internet. In that way it was a day not unlike today and many, many others... until I stumbled onto Virgin America's flight reservation page. My first thought was, "This was not the kind of 'virgin' I had in mind! Stupid interweb!" But seriously, folks, virgin is a funny name for an airline... Anyway, once there, I found that I could fly from San Francisco (SFO) to Ft. Lauderdale (FLL) for $212 total, tax included! This was an offer I could not refuse, so I called up the parents and the trip was set. Del Boca Vista, here I come!

Admittedly, the price was the hook, but there were other legitimate "reasons" to go to Florida in Mid-January, as well. In fact, they were three-fold: My grandparents' 63rd anniversary (Jesus!), my grandfather's 88th birthday (Christ!), and my desire to see my parent's (Awww... there they are on the beach in Delray). So, off I flew on the red eye to South Florida. Virgin America planes are pretty nice - they have a TV in each seat and all - but.. any meager snack would cost you at least three bucks and heaven forbid you'd like a blanket and a pillow on a RED EYE.. that "nap pack" will cost you $12! Flying sucks! But, alas, I didn't have time to drive to Florida so this had to do. Whatever.

I arrived to FLL safe, sound, and tired, but happy to see my mom and dad and happy to be whisked off to breakfast at their favorite local deli. We all ate well and then it was clearly nap time. I slept for a good 5 or 6 hours and when I woke up the first thing we had to do was take a hack saw to the legs of a table in order to make it 3 inches shorter and better for my mom (who is shor.. uh, petite) to sit at. My dad had been dying to saw and/or burn something with me since he found out I was coming.. we are dudes, this is what we do. Check him out in his Devil's Lake, ND souvenir t-shirt, hack-sawing to town!

When we weren't sawing stuff, we watched lots of Pawn Stars on TV, made rye bread, went to the gazebo on the water behind their community, and saw Avatar again... this time in full-on Imax 3-D, baby! Blew my parents' minds. Mom and I also went to the mall and it struck me that I wasn't sure if the mall or it's clientele were more dead. You see, the economy sucks and people in Florida are old. Funny!

After a few days we drove to Tampa, where the rest of the family lives. Along the way is 'Alligator Alley', a stretch of I-75 that goes east-west through the Everglades. My mom said she saw actual alligators beside the road.. Florida is kind of a strange place. My visit was a surprise to everyone in Tampa.. My aunt Arlie says she suspected I was coming, but I think we still got her pretty good. In Tampa I saw all my family, took some walks, had some dinners, and chomped on some see-gars with my Grandpa. He worked at Cuesta-Rey cigars for over 30 years and still smokes and/or chews on two cigars a day.. and he's 88, so something must be working. We also had a poker night.. and, you know, I am always up for a poker game! Below is the story of that night in pictures.. notice the high roller buy-in.

After I lost my shirt (about 75 cents) in poker it was time to drive back to South Florida. We all went to the beach one more time and then it was time to go before I knew it. I hadn't even gotten the chance to wreck a Cadillac or get the condo board to impeach my dad. Oh well, next time I'll bring a Wizard organizer and an astronaut pen and we'll stay on schedule. These are all Seinfeld references, in case you're lost. They make me laugh.

After saying goodbye to my parents I waited in the airport for boarding time.. and waited.. and waited.. and waited some more. My flight was delayed three hours due to inclement weather in SFO. So, to kill time, I had some sliders and a beer at the in-terminal Chili's. While I ate, a lady approached my table looking a little bewildered. She asked, "Is that a burger? 'Cause I don't want chili... They serve things besides chili?" I assured her it was indeed a burger and, yes, they actually serve lots of things besides chili - in fact, I don't know if they serve chili at all. She then asked how the burger tasted, "Is it as good as McDonald's?" she asked. "Even better," I said, actually lying twice in the space of two words. Oh Florida, I'll miss thee and thy wacky peoples.

I did bring back a taste of Florida to San Francisco, though.. A bag of fresh key limes. I was determined to make Danie and Jesse a key lime pie.. to the right is the result of my effort. Look at me, breaking out the pastry bag and the garnish.. fancy! It tasted as good as it looked (if I do say so myself) and it reminded me of home. Florida will always be in my genes.

A Dozen Roses and A Samurai Sword

I have now been in San Francisco for almost four months. Wow... time really does fly when you're having fun. And I really have been having fun. Things aren't perfect, it'd be nice to have a job or, you know, some source of income so I could, ya know, pay for things... but life continues to be good. I'm alive, I'm healthy, and I'm trying damn hard to enjoy what I have and where I am. Where I am is a great place with great friends and that is at least two of the most important things in life.

Anyway, that first paragraph was mostly therapy for me.. gotta remind myself of these things every so often! Now, to deliver on the promise of the title of this post: A few weeks ago I caught a BART train to Berkeley just to scope out the scene, stroll around campus, gawk at some coeds, etc... On the train was a man. A very special man. Probably a hobo, possibly drunk, likely crazy, definitely holding a dozen red roses in one hand and a samurai sword in the other. Now, I have seen some shit on the NYC subways in my day, but nothing quite like this! Thinking back, I realize that if this man had looked like Comic Book Guy, maybe I wouldn't have thought twice... a samurai sword would be a perfectly reasonable gift for any woman who loves Comic Book Guy. I imagine that woman loves samurai swords and World of Warcraft in equal measure. However, this man was no lovably geeky fat man. No, the man before me was a haggard, post-apocalyptic-looking, world weary homeless person who probably had a very long and colorful history with the women in his life. The roses say he cares, the samurai sword says he cares... TO DEATH!! Du-du-daaaaa! He was quite the sight, pacing around the train for a minute before finding a seat, one down and facing me. Awesome. I avoided eye contact at all costs, obviously, but in my periphery I could see him set down the roses and begin to unsheathe and sheath his sword, ominously eyeballing the blade as he slid it in and out. Was I being punked here? Come on, this guy was just too much! I wasn't worried about myself really, but I was definitely growing more and more concerned for whoever was on the receiving end of those roses. I had to get off at the next stop but I took one last, long look at samurai man... I haven't heard anything in the news about a samurai killing but I am prepared to pick him out of a line up if necessary. The end.

When I got to Berkeley I looked around a used bookstore then headed to the UC Berkeley campus. The campus is beautiful and the people on it are, too. Just a little too beautiful. In fact, the more I walked around, the more I began to feel old, fat, and dumb. I mean I don't really think I'm any of those things (not quite yet, anyway), but, man, seeing all those good looking 22-year-olds running around with books and purpose and stuff will give a man a complex. Not to glamorize college.. been there, fully aware that it's not necessarily all it's cracked up to be. But, sheesh, relative to being unemployed (voluntarily, but still..) in the real world with no real great way to meet members of the opposite sex, college seems like a fuckin' utopia. Maybe one day I'll die and go to Berkeley. And all the girls will love my hat and want to do me.

By the way, the world can thank Danie and Jesse for my new hat.. One of the best birthday presents ever! I always wanted to wear a hat like this because all the cool dudes in old movies where them. Frankly, I never thought I was cool enough to pull it off, but, check me out, clearly I am way cooler than I thought. I think I would have liked the days when everyone wore fedoras all the time... why did that period end anyway, I wonder? It's kind of a timeless look I think and I always wanted to be a sort of timeless guy.

Speaking of movies, they have been my primary diversion since I've been here (and all my life, really). Jesse loves movies, too, and we have been hitting the theaters hard, seeing everything from old Hitchcock and French New Wave movies to Avatar and District 9. There are two primary independent theaters we have been frequenting, The Castro Theatre and The Red Vic. One is a beautiful, huge, old 1920's movie palace, the other a dark, dingy, tiny, church basement-looking hole. They each serve their purpose, but the palace is definitely the place to be. Some of the highlights from our movie diet include: The 400 Blows, The Hurt Locker, The Godfather I and II, Panic in Needle Park and Serpico, District 9 and Alien, Rear Window, Marnie and Rebecca, Moon, Whatever Works, A Serious Man, Where the Wild Things Are, and Up In The Air. We all went to the Godfather double feature at the Castro.. over 7 hours of movie for 10 bucks! That's a lot of sitting, and our butts did hurt, but you can't beat the value. I remember it being a really happy day.. I woke up feeling good, the weather was perfect, I took a nice long walk, bought rye flour at Whole Foods, had a fish taco lunch at Pancho's (our favorite local Mexican place), and then watched two classic movies on a giant screen in a very cool theater with my friends.. a good day! We were reminded of some important lessons from The Godfather, too: never take sides against the family; no offense to your present consigliere, but sometimes you're gonna need a wartime consigliere; and, finally, leave the gun, take the cannoli.

This weekend Danie and Jesse are in Mexico so I have the house to myself. Today I am going to take a break from lounging around the house naked and head down to the Castro for another double feature: Niagara and The Asphalt Jungle, both classic film-noir starring Marilyn Monroe. It's part of the Noir City film series... the poster's cool:

I imagine there will be lots of great hats being worn in these films. It seems like the perfect occasion to wear my hat, although I fear it may be too much like wearing a band t-shirt at that band's concert.. know what I mean? Ahhh, screw it, I'm doing it.. I look too damn cool in that hat not to wear it.

PS. Don't plan on using "A Dozen Roses and A Samurai Sword" as the title for your next movie because I am already planning on that.. hereby copyrighted.