Year of writing 301. Worst DJ night ever.

10/28/12

I've heard tale that the Ojai scene could get sketchy at times, but hadn't experienced it in the four months that the Wild Stallions have been gigging here.  That changed last night.  There were 5 people in the place, zero people on the dancefloor, and our dj setup kept malfunctioning.  That's all there is to say about it.

I guess Halloween weekend is a weird one in Ojai, with a lot of house parties and big draws from outlying cities, but we got the actual night on lock, hopefully Wednesday will kill this show dead.

Year of writing 300. roofing

10/28/12

When I woke up Saturday morning I had a vision of cleaning the gutters, since we had our first rain of the season last week, and I'm a homeowner (sort of) and all.  So I grabbed a ladder, went up to check it out, and noticed that not only were the gutters clogged with dirt, acorns, a small raccoon family, a hello kitty doll, and nameless other things, but the roof was covered with about 8 inches of oak leaves and acorns from the oak trees on either side of the house.   This was going to be a much longer affair than I had planned.  

"No matter," I thought, "I got this,"  I thought, and hopped in the car to borrow my stepdad's leaf blower.  5 hours and about 250 pounds of leaves, acorns and dirt later, I remember why I hate stuff like this.  I'm sore, tired, and coughing up acorns, but it does feel pretty good knowing I took care of something.

Year of writing 299. Prometheus.

10/26/12

This is my review of the movie "Prometheus."  If you haven't seen it, I'm going to spoil the shit out of it, so stop reading, or don't because it's not worth it anyway.

I was super excited to see this movie, although everybody I care about seemed to say it was bad.  I thought to myself, any movie that is an "Aliens" prequel about the origins of humanity has to be pretty freakin' good, regardless of dialogue issues I had heard about.  I was so wrong.  As the movie progressed, I started to come to the realization that it must have been written by two ten year old kids doing a fill-in-the-blanks script for an action movie.  The only thing missing was "It's quiet, too quiet," which probably was said during the part that I fell asleep. 

The giant alien things were pretty cool, but the biological weapon they developed, which turned out to not only be their undoing, but the origin of the Alien monster, was way too cliche.  They did nothing new with special effects or alien landscape, the setting could have been any martian movie, or even cave movie like the Descent.  Meh.  Don't waste your time on this one.

Year of writing 298. Waterbaby

10/25/12

Miles loves water.  In the mornings, we usually drop off Isla, go to the coffee shop and then walk down to the park where there is a big fountain.  He just likes to pull himself up on the ledge and point at the water.  The water is called "Gawg", as best I can discern.  However, this is probably not too accurate, as lights, the pull strings on ceiling fans, our cats, and the toilet are all also called "Gawg."

My cousin let me have her extra water play table and I finally picked it up today - as long as it is decently warm, my late afternoons will now consist of food prep while miles does this:  It's hard to hate my job sometimes.  Don't get me wrong, I find ways to complain - usually daily, but this is pretty freakin' cute.

Year of writing 297. Isla's story.

10/24/12

Isla's Story:

I was sailing on a raft and the sea was glittering white and I lay my head on my pillow.  I could hear waves going by, and the sea is swishing with darkness.  And, when I see the dolphins swim I jump in the water and swim and swim.  And I saw everything that was in the sea, like sea turtles and everything.  So, I did what most people do; go to soccer after I finished the boat ride.  As the stars sparkled and the moon gleamed, I sat there and looked at the sky.  I loved the view, but then it was time for bed.  I look at the moon while I lay in bed.  The moon looked like a slice of golden apple.  Then I fell asleep, but not until the morning.  And, I woke up three days later.  I slept for so long because I stayed up all night with the stars and the golden moon.  When I woke up, my hair was purple and my eyes were light blue.  My hair glittered in the sunlight, I loved the sunlight more than anything.  The golden sun came from the golden moon, it was sewed with golden buttons.  I held the golden apple in my hand and was so happy.  It was a piece of moon, and my eyes twinkled as the sun went down. My eyes were silver then, like mirrors.

The end.



Wow.

Year of writing 296. Monday

10/22/12


This will be short, because that's how I'm feeling. 

I don't think lamp shopping is an ideal way to spend the first Monday I've gotten to spend with my wife.  This, however, is in retrospect, in hindsight if you will.  It seemed like a great idea at the time.  Then, Miles happened and we walked laps through lamps plus like it was the paralyimpics. 

duh.

Year of writing 295. Best Show Ever.

Last night at the Jester in Ojai was the best by far.   TONS of people, all different types, all kinds of music, and the dance floor was packed from 10 til almost 2.  Ojai is coming up in the world.  Watch out Southern California.

year of writing 294. Homeland.

10/19/12

Tegan and I are addicted to the show Homeland.  I love that premium cable channels (and AMC) have gone nuts in the last decade with well produced, well written, well acted, and well received dramas.  Before The Sopranos, the last TV show I actually cared about keeping up with was probably "The Wonder Years,"  and that's almost exclusively because I had a ridiculous crush on Winnie Cooper and would spend the entire show waiting for her character to appear and then imagining what it would be like to have her be my first kiss.  At any rate, these shows have a formula to them that is something akin to crack or black tar heroin for me. Tegan and I have run through The Sopranos, 6 feet under, Deadwood, Game of Thrones, TrueBlood, The Walking Dead, Breaking Bad, etc... like they were free gelato on a summer day.  

Homeland has a little bit of nostalgia to it as well, because the first show Tegan and I watched together a lot was "My So Called Life"  with Claire Danes.  This was back in High School, and I think Tegan watched the show for the same reason I watched The Wonder Years - only substitute Jared Leto for Winnie Cooper.  I spent the show partially making sure Tegan wasn't comparing me to him, and partially swooning over Claire Dane's angsty character.  To be sure, she's come a long way (not Tegan, who now lusts after Bruce Willis of all people, but Claire Danes).  Her character in Homeland is awesome, and she portrays someone struggling with inner and outer demons masterfully.  I love it.

Year of writing 293. Inside.

10/18/12

Some days I draw the curtains on the sun,
sit in the false dark; a houseplant.   I am pot-
bound, this couch is bad soil, these
florescent bulbs nourish weakly. I know this,
I've done this to myself.  I never liked
unkempt growth, these leaves stunt comfortably
indoors.  They droop so sweetly here.

I am sure on these days that the light
behind linen and sheers cares enough
to split glass for me.  It is a game, I suppose,
of chicken. Only how does one outlast
the sun? I duck and shroud but know
the inevitable squinting and blinking
will come once the shades are drawn,
once the light makes dust motes dance.

Year of writing 292. The kids & I

10/16/12

I recently found a couple of pictures of myself at age 1 and 4 - the same ages my kids are now.  It's weird, although they look so different from eachother, they look very similar to me when I was their respective ages. 

Check it out.

Me at 1 and Miles at 1: 

Me at 4, Isla: 


Ahhh, genetics, you devil you.

Year of writing 291.

10/15/12

October 15.   For the past ten years, at this point I'd be deep in the doldrums of teaching.  Middle school kids realize around the beginning of October that they're in it for the long haul, so they set about trying new misbehaviors, and basically attempt to make teacher's lives hellish. At the same time, middle school teachers are realizing they've just finished one 6 week unit, and there are five more to go.  This is when sluggishness and faux depression begin to set in. 

I miss so many things about teaching: the wonder that appears on a kids' face when they figure something out about themselves, designing lessons based on current events that I know will kill in class the next day or week, seeing a child use his voice for the first time, and be heard for the beautiful person he is...etc.

I do not miss the endless hours of correcting papers, of trying to make relevant lessons fit into some prescribed and scripted curriculum that is boring as shit, I do not miss the constant disrespect from society (I get much more respect as a stay at home dad than I ever did as a teacher).  Teaching is one of those things that I don't understand how people (including myself) fall in love with, but we do, and I'm sure I'll be there again some day.
  

Year of writing 290. Bubble bath

10/14/12

I can hear her from the kitchen
she's singing "Tomorrow" from
Annie, the musical.  Her notes
all at once flat and sharp, the
lyrics bent to fit a four year old
mind: "the sun will come out
tomorrow, put your bottom dollar
that tomorrow there will be sun."

She splashes in the tub purposefully,
explaining to herself, her mom,
and nobody in particular how those
words just stick in her head, how
the song just makes her sing even
when it's not on anywhere but her head.

Maybe I'm wrong, but I think it is
these moments, in the magical mundanity
that make our hearts lurch and sway
drunk with how alive we all are right
here and now, it is these moments
which make us the men we always
wanted to be, the paternal rush
in our veins becoming a song
all at once flat and sharp, even when
it's not on anywhere but our heads.

Year of writing 289. First world problems.

10/13/12

Tegan and I decided that one thing we would do with our significantly lower mortgage since the short sale of our house in Richmond was hire a housecleaner twice a month.  It proved to be the best investment we ever made.  There is absolutely nothing better than coming home to a clean house, and not having to use our entire weekend to achieve it. 

That being said, this weekend was the cleaner's weekend and they didn't show up, or call, or anything.  Tegan and I almost lost our minds.  We were beside ourselves. 

Then, we realized how ridiculous that is.  Which made things come into perspective a little more, but still... the house is dirty, dammit.

Year of Writing 288. Los Angeles, Good riddance.

10/12/12

We finally made it out of LA, thank god.  It was a harrowing journey, especially the last day at Olvera St, where I thought I could bribe Isla into being happy with cheap trinkets, churros, and Mexican candy.  Yeah, no.  Two steps down Olvera street and Isla was already loudly proclaiming her boredom.  This was followed by me attempting to quell my starving belly with some authentic sopes from the oldest Mexican restaurant in LA.  What I actually got was a disgusting grey piece of "Carnitas" full of veins and gristle, on top of a hockey puck trying to pass for a masa cake.  Immediately after I threw away my one chance for nourishment for the day, Isla declared she had to poop. This was a public space, I wou;dn't have been able to let her use the facilities anyway, if they weren't shuttered.  Then, Isla began howling and hopping around, at one point slapping me in the face with her errant hands.  I totally wanted to quit.  Instead, we hightailed it to a McDonalds with a playland to wait out Tegan's last hours at her conference.  This could have been a happy ending if the playland didn't have an extremely unsafe high tunnel "bridge" as part of its crazy gerbil maze of a play area.  Isla climbed all the way up (it was probably suspended 9 feet in the air), but then lost her nerve when the bridge began swaying and squeaking loudly as if it was going to fall.  This unease turned to outright terror and she began screaming that she couldn't get across.  I, of course couldn't fit into the play area and I had a one year old in my arms, so all I could do was attempt to talk her down.  It worked, after about 10 minutes of screaming, and a McDonalds manager getting involved.  


But you know what?  I made it home, so there.

Year of writing 287. The Natural History Museum.

10/11/12

Fatalists and conspiracy theorists were all over the news feeds this morning predicting impending doom today, because the numbers in the date are in order.  Look, there is a pattern in everything.  And yes, things will end some day, and begin again another.  And, somebody will predict it, but that will be one out of billions of predictions, rendering it as random as everything else. 

While we're on the topic of quasi-scientific predictions, I will talk about my trip with the kids to the Natural History Museum in LA.  Not free, but not expensive.  We started off by visiting the "spider garden"  which has recently replaced the "butterfly garden," to my surprise.  Imagine telling your four year old daughter she will be walking around in a beautiful garden surrounded by floating butterflies, flitting this way and that, and landing on your shoulder like a Disney movie, then having it first rain, rendering the garden a muddy cesspool, and second, be filled with huge spiders NOT BEHIND GLASS mind you, just webbing up everywhere like it's the thing to do.  Now, if you have my daughter, that's not a problem, because she's awesome and grabbed the spider card and went spider hunting like a bad ass Dora the Explorer.  But if she's not my daughter I'm sure it would have sucked.

Next we entered the museum proper, where we were greeted by the only thing I remember about this museum, the big mouth shark, preserved from 1930 in some kind of disgusting liquid.  It is scary to say the least to see this monster from the deep marinating for almost 90 years in formaldehyde or whatever, but Isla got up enough gumption to look right near its head, and Miles threw cheerios at it like a real G. 

The highlight of the museum, and their main talking point is the revamped dinosaur exhibit.  I do have to say that their collection of actual fossils is pretty amazing, the best being the trio of Tyrannosaurs (a juvenile, teen and adult) all set up in an indoor courtyard.  Isla walked around with a pad of paper and a pen, drawing pictures of all the skeletons. It was pretty amazing.  Miles threw Cheerios at them all. 

Toward the end of the day I couldn't feel my head, hands or feet, but that's probably because all I ate today was the crust from Isla's peanut butter sandwich and a pillow mint.  I will never learn.  Ever.

Year of writing 285. Science Center.

10/10/12


The lesson for today is that sometimes you really need to get over yourself.  What I mean is, I've been stressing myself out about being alone in LA with my two kids for four days - this rubbed off on both of the little ones so that they were extra whiny, exaggeratedly annoying, and so forth.  I realized today that is mostly my fault.  Immediately after realizing this, I decided to man up my attitude and have some fun.  Miles, Isla and I went to a toy store in the morning, got coloring books and a ice cream sundae playset, came back to the hotel room for Miles' nap, watched some serious cartoons and then went to the free Science Museum in LA, where they have hands on awesome things to do for kids.  I could have been deterred by the breakfast fiasco in the morning when I didn't have time to get coffee before Tegan had to go to her conference, but I managed on some Folgers and a slap to my own face.  I could have been deterred by the five minute intervals of fire alarm warnings at the hotel during Miles' nap, but I just bucked up and covered his ears and/or put him back to sleep every five minutes.  I could have been deterred by the dead bee that somehow ended up in the stroller, making Isla scream like I was simultaneously ripping both of her legs off and pouring habanero sauce all over her tongue, but I simply flicked the deceased insect off the stroller and guffawed.  Like a boss. 

Needless to say, the day was rad. 

Year of writing 284. LA.

10/9/12

Today marks day one of my four day jaunt into the heart of Los Angeles to accompany my wife at her nursing conference.  We're staying at a hotel just across from the Staples Center, in what would be a rad situation if it weren't for two children who shall remain unnamed, as they are minors.  I think Tegan and I had this vision of a nice little visit, taking in the museums and sights of the city of angels while our children skipped and cooed, falling asleep in the stroller the instant they were tired. 

Yeah, no.  It's only been a few hours in LA and this is getting ridiculous.  The kids, out of their normal routine, are insane: whining, crying, complaining, cavorting, other c words.  I am tired and anxious at the same time, because nothing is easy.  I have to check the car everytime I come in, so I can't just run out and grab the sippycup I forgot in the backseat, I have to get my ticket, wait for the dude to come, and let me in to my own car so I can rifle through the trash in the back to get a barbie sippy cup.  Oh man.

Hopefully my plan of going to the science center tomorrow will fare better than this beginning.  If not, it's going to be a long, long, long next few days.

Year of Writing 283. The DMV.

10/8/12

I went to the DMV to renew my license today, something that I thought I had already done online.  When I called first to figure out what was happening, since I went through the entire renewal process online, and have been driving with an expired license since my birthday, I was told that my payment was never processed, so they never issued a renewal.  Can't somebody tell a motherf***er instead of just letting me wait the six weeks it's supposed to take, only to find out it was a glitch?  Apparently not.

Luckily, I was able to stash Isla with my cousin, and I only had to bring Milesy with me.  We arrived at the DMV, this bastion of humanity, and immediately I saw that the line was already "Disneylandified"  which is a word I just made up which refers to the labyrinthine post and rope system of herding people that has been devised by some horrible person to cram as many people into as small a place as possible.  So not only are you standing right behind some stinky person, you are flanked by two as well.  Thanks engineers.  I took my place, probably 40 people back from the "Start Here"  sign which had a god damned smiley face after it - text style, like this :).  I wanted to rip it off it's stupid frame.  Anyway, I stood there for about five minutes until the line moved one person.  Whatever, it's the DMV, I was prepared for this.  I had a bag full of Cheerios for miles, and a ton of ridiculous people to look at, which is what this post will be about.  Here are the people I noticed:

- A man with a motorcycle helmet, still on, wearing blue short-shorts and a Hawaiian shirt with a floral Hello Kitty pattern.

- A Latina woman with a tattoo of a grizzly bear roaring on her neck and upper back - like this:


- four members of what looked like the douchiest boy band ever. They had Jersey Shore guido hairdos and each of them had on Jordan brand shorts, strap sandals, and v-neck t-shirts and gold chains.  It looked like what would happen if the Backstreet Boys started a basketball team.

- A teenage girl with the word:  "Dangerus"  tattooed on her neck.

- A 400+ pound man with male pattern baldness who still liked to rock long hair off the sides and back, wearing yellow happy face suspenders, jeans up to his sternum, and a Ben & Jerry's T-Shirt.

- A three or four year old boy wearing a stormtrooper mask.

- at least six elderly people with oxygen tanks.

- A woman with a gold cane, topped with a huge fake diamond.  She was wearing a light blue velour tracksuit and a greenish blonde wig.

- Me and Miles.

We got to the front, and when the woman told me the wait was going to be more than two hours to turn in my paperwork, as much as I wanted to hang out with this Motley Crew, I had to go.  Bummer.

Year of writing 282. Things that make me want to punch myself in the neck.

10/7/12

After going shopping this weekend, I realized I need to update my list of things that suck.  These are not in order of importance, or even how many times I would punch myself in the throat, but just the top few situations, places, people and things that make me contemplate suicide by self brutalization:

1.  Halloween stores that pop up everywhere this time of year, full of cheap ass costumes, screaming animatronic witches and skeletons, and fake spiderwebs.  No, I don't want to be assaulted by a cackling demon or disembodied head doing a god-awful rap version of the Monster Mash.

2.  When dogs eat cat poop.  That is so disgusting dog, you should be ashamed of yourself.  You are a disgrace to your breed.

3.  Babies that reach into their own diapers while on the changing table.  Seriously?  Just wait to play with your penis until I wipe up all the feces, kid.

4.  Whining.  Holy crap I hate whining.  Every time my daughter starts to whine, I feel like a needle point of white hot laser is boring into my cranium.  It takes all I have not to grab a bat and pound my own head shapeless.

5.  Club owners.  Pay your talent, jerkwads.  That way they'll come back and bring more people too.

Year of writing 281

10/5/12

I now have an understanding of why musicians have managers.  This is the third club/bar owner who has tried to finagle Jon and I out of money for playing.  I don't understand what it is, maybe that people who play music don't necessarily have the arguing skills or confidence to demand what they should be given.  However, when an agreement is already in place, and money is involved, I'll be damned if we'll leave before we get paid.  Which is why I was sitting on a barstool in an empty bar an hour after closing last night.  3AM hello.

Year of writing 280. Jumanji

10/4/12


This morning I went to get my lipid screening done, to check my cholesterol and all that good stuff you gotta do when you're a 35 year old dude.  I had Miles with me, because Miles is always with me - and sat him on my lap while the phlebotomist got the needle ready.  I was a little worried, since Miles just got his shots, and was pretty traumatized by the whole thing, but this time, the kid saw the needle go into my arm, and when he started to draw the blood up into the syringe, Miles started laughing as if it was the most hilarious thing he's ever seen.  His laughter was so raucous that even the nurse at the desk looked over to see what the hullabaloo was.  I suppose I'm raising a vampire - which isn't so bad, as long as he's not the sparkly kind.


As I write this, Isla, Miles and I are watching Jumanji and eating pizza, waiting for mom to come home from a long day at the hospital.  I like my life right now.

Year of writing 279. Debates and A's.

10/3/12
The presidential debates between Mitt Romney and President Obama made me have a ridiculous headache.  I am sorely disappointed in Obama and his inability to capitalize on Romney's incessant lying rhetoric, and I am one hundred percent sure that at least a few of my old Junior High debaters could have whupped both their butts on that stage tonight.  If I were undecided, I would only be more undecided right now. 

In better news, the year I leave the bay and my Oakland A's, they go on a tear, ripping up opponents left and right, and just today, in breathtaking fashion, winning the AL West pennant.  Thanks a lot A's, now I have to get some serious cable upgrades just to watch next season.  I'll do it though, dammit, I'll do it.

Year of writing 278. First steps.

10/2/12

Miles took his first step today.  We were at Tegan's parents house while Isla was at school, playing some old pipe tunes with Joseph, Caitlin's boyfriend, and Peter, an old family friend.  I was on guitar, Joe was on bass, John was playing the mandola, and Peter was on the tin whistle.  Even if that was all that had happened, it would have made for an awesome day. I forgot how great it is just to sit and play music with a bunch of people.  However, Miles was not to be outdone. He was pulling himself up on Peter's leg just about the time we were going to leave, and I held my hands out to him to pick him up - instead, he launched himself forward with two wobbly delicious steps and grabbed onto my hands.  There are lots of rad feelings in the world. They don't come close to seeing the child that came from you do something important.  I'm holding on to this one, it was for me.

Year of writing 277.

10/1/12

October, hello.  It was 104 degrees today in Ojai, California - my new home.  That is unacceptable.  This heat belongs in ovens and morbidly obese people's crevices, not all around me in my natural habitat.  I go from air conditioned car to house running.  I think it is ridiculous when my neck is flushed, my inner elbows are drenched with sweat, and it's ten in the morning.  Winter better hurry the hell up.