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.
Monday, October 29, 2012
Sunday, October 28, 2012
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.
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.
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.
Thursday, October 25, 2012
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.
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."
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, October 21, 2012
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.
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.
Thursday, October 18, 2012
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
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.
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.
Ahhh, genetics, you devil you.
Monday, October 15, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, October 14, 2012
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.
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.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
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.
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.
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.
Friday, October 12, 2012
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.
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.
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