L'Chai-im!

Holy crap, this is going to be a long entry. But then again, you don't have to read it if you don't want to, so shut up. And with that lovely start, I begin my entry.

Let's start with the nasties, because that's the way I likes it! It's been a not that terribly long, but certainly dark, tea-time of the soul for yours truly. To start with, I have once again committed an act of assholishness at the altar of womynkind. Remember how I went on that date with MySpace girl a while ago? Well, following the date I got tremendously sick (through no fault of the date), and then after coming out of illness went into uber-creative mode. And so being in the midst of all this madness I... sort of... didn't write her. I will say, however, that she also didn't write me, and last time I checked the interweb flows both ways, but it's still unwritten, or probably written some place or another, that the guy gets in touch with the girl and whatnot. So I didn't for a while after the date, and felt bad about it. So I went to write her a note thanking her for the date and explaining my being incommunicado. But when I go to write her a message MySpace gives me this weird error report that's like "Message can't be delivered, may be due to respondant's inbox" or something like that. So I figure that's weird, it's a technical error, I'll write later. I write later, I get the same message. Weird, I think. And then I think, you know every time I get a technical error at MySpace I get the same message, and this was the first time I got a different one, which then led me to the very possible thought that MYSPACE GIRL MAY HAVE BLOCKED ME FROM MESSAGING HER. Yikes. I'm an ass.

Next on the old agendar was my trip down to North Carolina for my grandma's 90th birthday. Now, this trip was filled with horrible, dark, brooding thoughts, so I'm going to offer you readers the same offer I did with the gym locker room entry. If you want to read awfulness, please continue. If not, skip ahead to the more fun MUSIC REVIEWS!!!

All right, have only the brave and depraved continued? Then here we go:

If you haven't seen the film Bubba Ho-Tep, do it. It's a movie about Elvis and JFK (allegedly) in a nursing home, where they are attacked by an ancient evil. It's strange, silly, creepy, and actually beautifully poignant at times. I saw it a while ago, and I remembered liking it a lot at the time, but now it's become even more awesome in my mind as I spent some good quality time at Nana's nursing home. I'm trying to think of the exact mood or feeling that movie captured so well that I felt while at the nursing home, but I can't quite get it. Catatonia, maybe? If you have any thoughts let me know, but I think maybe the word doesn't really exist because nobody wants to think or talk about this feeling long enough to put a name to it. I don't have a big giant fear of death, at least not mine, but I've now been instilled with an awe-inspiring fear of GROWING OLD.

But it's not just growing old, because I've known some great old people. My grandpa, up until the day he died, was awesome and active and a fun old coot to be around. Kurt Vonnegut is still kicking shit up and taking time to talk to young punks like yours truly. At various churches my dad has been at there's been plenty of elderly people who were still out there doing their thing and being pretty rocking. But the people in this place, my grandma included, were kind of horrifying. I love my grandma, and I want her to be happy, but the simple, straightforward truth is that SHE'S NOT. No one there is. I'm trying to think of some way to get this feeling across, and the most appropriate analogy I've come up with so far is this: Imagine being at a sporting event, watching your favorite team, and then suddenly, right in the middle of the game, both sides just stop what they're doing and stare at each other, and then they all just sort of collapse into a fetal position right there on the field and start silently crying. Now I know that's going to sound kind of funny, but no. Really. IMAGINE that. And there you are, up in the stands, looking down at your boys, and suddenly there's this awfulness down their on the field, and there's nothing you can do but sit there and watch.

It all just felt really strange, and I know it's such a cliche, awful nursing home and whatnot, but holy shit. Maybe it's just me and I'm really sensitive, but I was trying very hard to restrain myself from going nuts. I don't think I'd seen grandma for a couple of years, and so here I am, down from New York. Who knows when/if I'll see her again. And what happens? We just sit there, staring silently at the floor. "How you doing, Nana." "Awful." "What have you been up to?" "Nothing." "Looks like lunch is coming around. You like the food here?" "No." "None of it?" "No." I was around grandma for two full days, and I don't think I saw her eat more than 10 bites of food, and I'm dead serious about this. She's literally just wasting away.

So we had our surprise party for her, and the only time I saw her really happy the whole time was when she was around my cousins' kids. And I know this is going to sound really awful and creepy of me, but I swear to you it was like she wanted to feed off of their little kid lives. It was like she wanted their energy. And I'm pretty sure there have been stories and movies and whatnot about this, but I want to see one done really well, because frankly I found it incredibly upsetting to watch. I know that some people probably see grandmothers holding rambunctious 8 year olds and think "Awww, grammy loves her great grandkids! How adorable!" And I think it's great that grammy loves the great grandkids, too, but honestly. HONESTLY. Look at the way she stares at them. Look at the way she holds them when OBVIOUSLY they don't want to be held. I think it's a fool who believes that's ALL love and rainbows. There's want there. Envy. Lust for life, but not in the charming Iggy Pop way. And it's sad, and it's horrifying, and it's something that happens.

And this is what we're doing. Look at how long all these people in these nursing homes have lived. They've all gone on at least 10 years longer than they should. The joy's gone out of their lives, and the best they can do is siphon it off of those around them. I can't help but think about our society and how everything is about living LONGER or living BIGGER or living FURTHER, but what about living BETTER? I mean, honestly? Who gives a shit if you're the most health-conscious person, or the most politically conscious person, or the smartest or wittiest, or the most "religious" person, or "successful" person, or you live till one hundred and one? Are you happy? Are you at least TRYING to be happy? Howsabout making other people happy? Do you look forward to waking up in the morning? Do other people look forward to you waking up in the morning? THINK ABOUT IT.

As the founder of the First Church of Storytelling, let me look at my grandmother in relation to my beliefs. My grandmother's story ended about ten years ago. Now she's just treading water. And you know how when you truly love a TV show, and then it just runs out of steam, it kind of kills you? That's what has happened to my grandma, only, you know, moreso, seeing as how she's a real live person who is also related to me. I love her, I truly do, but she's just run out of steam, and now it's getting really hard to watch. I love you, Nana, and I wish things were better for you, but I just don't know how that's going to happen.

Meuh.

It's also weird when being around grandma to see my other relatives and wonder if this is going to happen to any of them. I don't think this is going to happen to my parents because they're pretty lively people. They're always interested in something or other, they get out and do a lot. For instance, on the way to the airport my mom was telling me about this philosophy and theology course she's taking, and I got to talk with my mom about time and physics relating to the properties of God, which was a really cool conversation and my mom was so excited about reading this stuff it became infectious. Also, my parents make all kinds of friends wherever they're at. But my other relatives I worry about. It was strange to watch my cousins interact while I was there. There are two on dad's side, they're both married with kids, as are all my cousins on my mom's side as well. As my family, my immediate family, was driving me out to the airport we were talking about the interesting family dynamics, and how there's a strange transition going on in family dynamics by and large. Because it used to be that the patriarch went out to work, came home and watched tv, and the mom stayed home and took care of the house and kids. But now there's been this whole shift in thinking, largely due to the feminist movement. So now the men are supposed to help out around the house more and the ladies can go out and get jobs. HOORAY! BUT this gets weird when the man is still the sole provider and the woman is staying at home, because now no one's really sure exactly who does what to what degree. So it's interesting to watch those sort of growing pains in family politics work themselves out. Everyone's trying to figure out what to do. What a strange time to be alive.

Speaking of these cousins of mine, one of the cousins I saw who has the kids and everything, we always called Giggles growing up, but her actual name is Jamie. Now Jamie was always cute, and I always thought she sort of looked like Uma Thurman. On this trip it was strange because apparently at some point when no one was really looking, Jamie made the jump from being cute to being HOT. I'm talking head-turning hot. I know this because when we went places with her, heads turned. Less attractive women, which pretty much means anyone, were shooting rays of hatred and jealousy. And it was strange to me to think about this woman who now has had kids and a husband for a while now has suddenly jumped from being really good looking to startlingly so. What's that like? Whelp, congratulations. You're smoking. Here's your 10 pounds of ground chuck, have fun making hamburgers tonight for l'homme and kids. As if I weren't already itchy about people getting married young, this now officially confounds me.

This also reminds me of a conversation Dave and I had recently about how attractive women are in New York. You can walk down any street in this city at any time of the day and see at least three incredibly gorgeous women. We were hypothesizing about why this is. Is it that people are out walking more? Is it that there's such a general sense of fashion in NYC that no one buys the big fluffy kitty sweaters or goes out in the jeans with all the paint stains on them? What is it? Whatever it is, here's a toast to you, you gorgeous women of New York! And gorgeous men as well!

Speaking of which, a note from my return: I was on a bus coming back from LaGaurdia, and on the bus right across from me was this very attractive guy who I am pretty sure was both (A) gay, and (B) checking me out. I had my earphones in, but could still hear him and the bus driver, and would occasionally throw in my 2 cents and whatnot. It's a shame I'm not gay or bi, because the guy was really good looking and I'm pretty sure he was throwing me the wink wink, nudge nudge. Ah well. If only the womens could throw such obvious signals.

Another fun coming home note, as I got off the plane I got to see a family welcome one of their own back from Iraq. The guy came off in his army duds, and everyone was there waiting for him with signs and balloons and everything, and it was incredibly touching. I definitely misted up a bit, and thought about sticking around to sort of watch them and get some second-hand celebration, but decided not to be that creepy guy who screwed up Oliver's welcome home, so I kept moving.

Whelp, I think that's about it from my trip. It was basically three bizarre days consumed with thoughts of death, decay, reconstruction and survival. Did I mention my dad gave me a book on the Twilight Zone and a (tongue in cheek) Guide to the Apocalypse. Hooray for vacation!!! I am creepy.

WELCOME BACK EVERYONE, TIME FOR MUSIC REVIEWS!!!!

So, I've decided that whenever I go a-music shoppin at the used CD store, my new goal is to buy one album by people I know I like, and one from someone I've never heard of before. And so here are the pick-ups from my most recent trip:

"Demeter," Fifty Tons of Black Terror: This was the band I knew nothing about. I got them because their cover had a neat painting of a boat on it, I like their name, and their song titles included "Voyeur's Blues," "La Grotte D'Amour," and "A Deviant Soiree" amongst others. This turned out to be an inspired choice for two main reasons. (A) The band rocks. They're a fun, rambunctious and somewhat vile band from jolly old England. Imagine if all of the twisted and nasty Nick Cave songs all got together and formed their own punk/rock band and you're on the right track. I suggest looking up reviews of them online just to see all the fun things reviewers have to say about them and interviews with the bandmates themselves because they are fun and colorful. Also, you may have to look them up under their original name, Penthouse, which they're still called in England but had to change for the American release because apparently there's this magazine over here in America that also has that name? And they threatened to sue. So their new name came from a neighbor suggesting it, as it was the title of an old horror movie about a giant spider that eats a village. AWESOME. (B) Part of the insert in the CD lists a bunch of other bands on their label Beggars Banquet, and looking some of them up makes me think that I'd really like most of them. So hooray! AND the CD also came with an extra disc of remixes, all of which I may like better than the originals, which is saying quite a bit.

"Darker My Love," Darker My Love: OK, so I cheated this time and bought three CDs, but this one was pretty cheap because it was just an EP. This one falls in the middle of knowing and not knowing, because I bought it due to the fact that it's from a member of the band The Distillers, which may be my new reason to love. Have you heard The Distillers? I think they're AWESOME! I saw one of their videos and actually had a moment of thinking "Holy Crap. This is a ROCK SONG. Like a real effin' ROCK SONG." They're punk, they're fun, and they make some kickin songs. And their lead singer Brody Dalle is really hot in that dirty punk way, and she makes snarling bad-ass rock like you haven't heard in a while, trust me. I'd gone out that night hoping to find some Distillers, but couldn't find them at a price I liked, so I picked this up hoping maybe it would satiate me. It didn't. It's mediocre rock, exactly what The Distillers kick in the balls. Maybe they'll straighten things out for the full album, but I somehow doubt it. Sorry, Darker My Love, but I've almost forgotten you already.

"Dead Inside," Golden Palominos: So in my meeting with Karen B. recently she mentioned The Golden Palominos, and I remembered how much I really liked them. She mentioned how they'd done an album with this poet Nicole Blackman, and she thought that I'd really like it. So as I was perusing the used CD store I cam across this Golden Palominos album, and lo and behold it was the Nicole Blackman disc! So I picked it up, figuring it was providence, and I was right. This album is AWESOME. I'd heard the tracks "Victim" and "Ride" before, but had preferred the Lori Carson era GP. However, now that I've listened to the whole disc I think the secret is that you can't just hear one or two songs off this album, you've got to take in the whole thing. It's a moody, atmospheric spell-caster of an album that has the power alter your mood and mindset entirely. I recently bought a portable CD player, and I listened to this album while walking around New York, and I swear it made me feel completely different, like I was in some sort of alien territory or some nasty little pulp novel. It's cool, it's bent, and it's just right if you want to place yourself in a world somewhere between Frank Miller and Bret Easton Ellis. Particularly recommended is "The Ambitions Are," a song that uses repetition and bleak urban imagery to create an almost religious litany of desperation and the fight to simply keep breathing.

Speaking of this album, the song "Victim" has always given me the major heebie-jeebies. I've been thinking recently of songs that really creep me out. I think my top three would be "Victim" by The Golden Palominos, "Exterminating Angel" by The Creatures and the "O'Malley's Bar" triptych by Nick Cave. Anybody else out there have songs they can't hear without shaking?

Speaking of being freaked out, I took that "What is your humor" test that's going around. Check this out:

the Wit (86% dark, 26% spontaneous, 11% vulgar)

your humor style: CLEAN | COMPLEX | DARK You like things edgy, subtle, and smart. I guess that means you're probably an intellectual, but don't take that to mean you're pretentious. You realize 'dumb' can be witty--after all isn't that 'the Simpsons' philosophy?--but rudeness for its own sake, 'gross-out' humor and most other things found in a fraternity leave you totally flat. I guess you just have a more cerebral approach than most. You have the perfect mindset for a joke writer or staff writer. Your sense of humor takes the most effort to appreciate, but it's also the best, in my opinion. Also, you probably loved the Office. If you don't know what I'm talking about, check it out here: http://www.bbc.co.uk/comedy/theoffice/. PEOPLE LIKE YOU: Jon Stewart - Woody Allen - Ricky Gervais

My test tracked 3 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 99% on dark You scored higher than 3% on spontaneous You scored higher than 3% on vulgar

Link: The 3 Variable Funny Test written by jason_bateman on Ok Cupid

I scored higher then 99% on "Dark"? Good lord. Maybe they read my earlier comments about grandma.

In news from other people's lives, Amanda, Brown, Dave and Newman were asked by Eric to do a performance at some rich dude's birthday party this Tuesday, which sounds like a whole feast of insanity. I REALLY want to see it, but apparently it's uber-high invite or what have you. BOLLOCKS. I am hoping that I can wait downstairs in the bar for them wherever they'll be at so we can have drinks afterwards, since Tuesday is my night off. I can't imagine it won't be quite a story. And apparently they're getting paid for it, which is pretty sweet. As enthused as I am, a part of my brain, the small, petty part that the rest of my brain rolls its brain-eyes at, is screaming at the fact that Brown, Amanda and Dave, none of whom are angling to be professional actors, will be getting a paying acting gig before I do (I'm not counting the handshake money I get slipped at Polly Frost readings, and neither should you. Come on. Seriously). Ah well. I should use this as a motivation to get even further off my ass than I've already gotten and do something.

It's definitely occurred to me that the stuff I'm writing now isn't going to be done for a few months, and I am in dire need of performing again. It's been way too long, there have been too many false starts, I need to act. I could audition, but I'd need to get headshots, and I'm still belly-aching about the cost. Although I haven't gotten a hold of the friend Meredith recommended. So I should do that. And any other shutterbug who may want to snap some pics of this gorgeous mug, I will cover expenses and pay a tiny tiny amount and be eternally grateful for your services. I am poor, but appreciative.

UUUUUUUURGH!!!! MUST PERFORM!!!! MUST ACT!!!! MUST DO SOMETHING!!!! After staring at death and decay for a weekend, I wants to feel alive! ALIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE!!! Screw the heat, screw being down and out, screw not having any idea what's going on! I will be a success!!! Or I shall die trying!!! More exclamation points!!!

Oh, and speaking of being appreciative, Jamie (redhead friend, not Uma Thurman-esque cousin) left me a message on one of my earlier LiveJournal entries, just a little hello. So I went and read some of her old entries, since she hasn't updated in a year or so, and she said some incredibly nice things about me. I actually got really choked up reading them! And so I wanted to take this moment to acknowledge how ridiculously sweet I found that. For those of you who don't know, the Jamie and Jake story is a long and strange tale, with many an odd twist and turn, but by golly I love the girl and won't stop yelling at her, making crass comments and accepting late-night phone calls until she becomes the happy, healthy, successful person I know she can be. Mmmmmmm. With friends like me, huh?

All righty. I think that's about it for this entry. Even if it isn't, I'm ending it, because as per usual it's gone on faaaaaar too long.

So until next time, my dark comedies!

-Jake T.