And by the way...

Happy Zombie Jesus Day everybody!

Catfish in the depths of hell

Fifteen points. Fifteen fucking points. Four minutes.
The worst sports loss I've ever endured as a fan, and I'm not remotely over it yet.

Sacrilegious

I went to Tony's Old Fashion Tavern tonight to clear my head and drink some beer. It's the diviest dive near my soon-to-be former apartment and probably the best bar I know of to go to alone. I was drinking beer and reading Rolling Stone when this drunk multi-pierced guy sat down in my booth.

"Shit man, tomorrow's Easter," he said.
"Yeah, it is. Wow I totally forgot," I said.
"Man I fuckin hate Jesus."
"Well then you should like Easter because it's when he died."
"You want to hear a joke?" I said yes. "What's this?" He mimed Jesus spread eagle on a crucifix. I told him I didn't know. "One hell of a way to spend Easter." I laughed even though it wasn't that funny. It was sacrilegious, which was good enough.

Then this hot short-haired tattooed girl who had recently been making out with another hot short-haired tattooed girl walked up to my booth. She could barely see straight, you could tell.

"What's this?" she said. She mimed an open palm facing her crotch, bobbing her hand up and down. We didn't know what it was.
"Jesus jacking off."

Happy Easter Time & Space Lounge!

Tacky

Rather than get into another fight over whether tv is good or bad, I'm going to post this referal link to get a free photo ipod. It's tacky, I know, but it's legit. And I'm doing.

Feel free to make fun of me.

www.freephotoiPods.com/?r=16494441

I'M SO CONFUSED

I have never been more confused by the media than I have in the last twenty-four hours.
It started late last night. I was up at a buddy’s house watching a little M2 (what MTV should still be) and I caught the video for GAY BAR by Electric Six. It’s a great video with multiple Abe Lincolns, all dancing and working out and might I say, being a little gay. It’s a video I’ve seen before and always get a little gitty whenever I see it. But this time was different. It was censored. When Abe says, “lets start a war, a nuclear war.” Both “War” and “Nuclear” were bleeped out. Now I don’t know why. Was it just the words? Did the idea of a pop song asking for war make the censors push their button? Or was it a combination of sound and picture? Was it too much since it was Abe Lincoln asking for war? Does it make a difference that Abe is wearing biker shorts, a tank top, his stove pipe hat and riding an exercise bike when saying such words?

I don’t know what factors came in to play, but Electric Six got bleeped.

Today, I cruised the net looking for movie news. I found three remakes that all make me a little uneasy. One is “The Bad News Bears” staring Billy Bob Thornton. Next, a new Herbie the Love Bug movie staring Lindsay Lohan. This one is called “Herbie: Fully Loaded”. That’s right. Our lovable love bug has gone EXTREME!! The last has me torn most of all and I’m sure most of you know which one I’m thinking of. It’s Tim Burton’s “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” Now I love Burton, but he seems to be getting almost pompous in his recent movies. I don’t need to argue the merits of the original. And now with the huge sales of DVDs, we don’t have to worry about a generation missing this classic. But for some reason Mr. Burton thinks he can do a better job.

Sorry, I just threw up a little.

And just tonight, I saw a commercial for the new American version of the British sitcom, “The Office.” I hit the wall when I saw this. How dare they? I’m so mad. I’ve tried to call my brother three times since I saw the commercial and he’s not answering his phone. I can only assume that he saw the same ad and threw his phone against the wall.

What is happening? Are all the original thinkers being squashed by global capitalism? Maybe I should switch my major to some kind of intellectual regurgitation? Or maybe I should just hide in a cave and watch shadows move over the walls, I’m sure it would be just as interesting as today’s media.

Catfish in the woods

We’d crawled out of the soaked tents into the foggy morning, packed and loaded all the gear away, hopped and started back down Mount Graham – at 8:30 a.m. the thermometer in the car read 37.
We were at 8,000 feet, in the middle of March, but it sounded like a great idea the week leading up, which included a shorts-and-flip-flops day at the ball park.
Arizona camping in late winter can be a tough bet sometimes, but damn if the snow, rain and cold didn’t even register as an inconvenience. For me, the weather simply made the camping trip substantially more interesting. It’d been years and there’s so much to the experience that a little chill ain’t gonna faze me.
For one thing we settled on one of the better spots I’ve ever seen. None of the five us had been to Mount Graham before, so the destination wasn’t even settled until we got there. We were far enough off the main road to not be visible and there was already one hell of a fire pit, dug well out and bordered by a wall of rocks, not just a simple circle.
I brought my saw, and the General sawed. And sawed and sawed. He likes to saw, and kept saying so.
One Good Arrow (as we came to call the somewhat crazy Army veteran) was obsessed not with sawing, or the fire even, but with constructing a bow. And, rather than fill a quiver with decent arrows, he set out to carve the One Good Arrow.
Blue was in rare form, as was Mrs. One Good Arrow.
Friday night started snowing, light at first, but by the time I’d decided to turn in, the swirling winds were blowing big fat flakes all around. The flames were blown haphazardly, sending smoke in everyone’s eyes all too often.
Saturday was great, tromping all around and marveling at nature. There was a light rain, but nothing enough to chase anybody running back to camp to the tents or cars. There was hiking, sitting and talking, and at last, feasting. The feasting lasted pretty much through and through.
The entire camping trip was incredible. I got to explore an entirely new mountain, stretch my legs and lungs in the mountain air – an experience all too rare these last few years living in the Sonoran Desert. We were above the clouds, surrounded by misty darkness even during the height of day. Sure it was cold, but it’s a better story because of it. The pines breathe better in the mist anyway, and they’re the center of the experience.
And at night there’s little better in the world to do than sit around a camp fire.
The pavilion collapsed, we endured snow and hours of completing if not damaging rain, the cold always beat the toes into submission and there were notable absences in the ranks. But it was a weekend of high achievement, memorable when such was sorely needed. And I pledge to not wait years before camping again.

Catfish in the

My contribution to the Buzz Sheet

Not to completely rip off Arnie, but I was going through an old notebookand found a conversation between two lesbians that I wrote down when I was having coffee a while back:

Lesbian #1: "So are you going to get back to that woman in prison, or just let it go?"
Lesbian #2: "No, I've been there before. I've had those days."

Lesbian#1, later: "I was thinking about getting an ounce of pot and just sitting there and getting high for three days. But I don't smoke pot anymore."

Bringing Paradise to the Patio

It’s SPRING BREAK and I’m all by myself in Tucson. But there’s nothing new with that. I don’t know how many Spring breaks I’ve seen, but I’ve never taken part. Before, I just never had the money. I couldn’t afford to pay for a trip, but more importantly, I couldn’t afford to take time off work. I stayed home and watched everyone’s pets, got their mail, and watered a fern here and there. I had so many keys, you’d think I was janitor.

But this year was going to be different. I have money. And I can actually take time off work. But this time, I just wasn’t thinking about SPRING BREAK. I wasn’t hit over the head every few days with new plans and great adventures. And when one of my teachers said, “I know most of you aren’t going to be here Friday, but try to show up anyway.” I was Shocked. What was happening this Friday that most people would be gone? I honestly had no idea SPRING BREAK had arrived.

So here I am in the desert. No ocean, limited bikinis, and very few mini umbrellas in fluffy drinks. So late Saturday night, probably after a six pack, I made a decision. If I can’t go to the tropical paradise, by God, I’ll bring it to me. A little melodramatic? I think so.

First, I had to set the mood. I made a killer play list on me itunes (and ipod). It’s full of Clash, Specials and Harry Belafonte. It makes you shake that money maker regardless of your own wants and needs.
Next, I went to Home Depot and bought a Palm tree. It’s a Queen Palm and quite nice.
Then I ran to the grocery store and bought lots of rum and mixers, a pineapple and some mango.

I found some old Hawaiian shirts and threw them on. I made a nice Strawberry PinaColada, with an umbrella, and sat under the shade of my new palm tree. Mind you, I’m in a patio four feet by six feet. But the neighbors are jealous.

I do have to catch up on some school work this week. But I figure, if I finish by five everyday, I can party it up every night. Just me and my Palm tree.

If you have great ideas on how to bring the paradise to the patio, let me know.

Catfish at the club

There's little better in life than a top-notch show on a Friday night.
And Okkervil River doesn't disappoint.
Call 'em indie folk rock if you must, but don't ignore the comparisons to Wilco, Neutral Milk Hotel and Bright Eyes. Okkervil River is one of the best bands out there, without a doubt.
Preparing for a U.S. tour with the Decemberists, the boys from Austin thoughtfully added a Tucson show.
The band has definitely grown with the new lineup, adding a pedal steel and trumpet to the already wide mix of instruments.
Will Sheff is a great songwriter, a passionate singer and an enigmatic front man. He brings incredible imagery and detail to his lyrics.
The band started with the slower material before exploding in sound, a passionate sonic swirl that was simply amazing. Will cut his forehead on his guitar, bleeding through the encore of Kansas City that brought the house down.
It was a great show, and great to see the guys again. They had Thanksgiving at my house a year ago and love telling the story of seeing Joey Burns in Safeway. The dual Otis clothing was indeed strange.

For you Westerners, definitely check out Okkervil River/Decemberists tour. They're playing LA, San Fran, Portland, Seattle, Vancouver and Boulder. Don't miss out.

Ampersand! It's Mr. Chair's Comic Book Pick of the Week!!!!!!

I foresee a pattern in the coming months. Expect Grant Morrison's "Seven Soldiers" series to consistently be the MCCBPOTW. He's got a bold endeavor going on right now, and I think he's going to do it justice. This month, for example, "Shining Knight" is the pick of the week. The story is a mind-boggler, as we've come to expect from the bald Englishman. But the art couples with Morrison as well as I've seen, including Frank Quitely. A double splash page pretty much makes the issue, with an organic, magical city in the sky hovering over New York. I looked at it for like three minutes. Simone Bianchi's art looks water-colored, but more likely it's the same ink wash technique Tim Sale uses in Daredevil Yellow and Hulk Gray. Good comics!

Masked and Anonymous

I heard a comment on the lounge with which I must disagree. Someone has dismissed Masked and Anonymous as a failure. I want to stand up and say that I do not think it is a failure. I think Masked and Anonymous is a wonderful movie, a very succesful experiment in what a movie can do. It is innovative and creative and opens up a world of enigmas and poetry. I bought it for my girlfriend's birthday, and we have since watched it five times. After I saw it in the theatre two years ago, I liked it a lot, but knew I would have to see it many more times before I understood what everything was about.

Now that I have seen it many times and understand it better, I will say this. Masked and Anonymous tells a cinematic story in a very different way from typical movies. If you choose not to accept it, you are just choosing to be closeminded to the expansion of the medium of film into further possibilities. The cinematography and art direction are very specifically orchestrated and very effective even if you don't understand it. When I first saw the film, I noticed that I was constantly confused as to whether I was in modern America, an alternate America, or a fictional country. Now I can see that this confusion was intentionally brought into the movie through the third-world journalism colors of the film, and the third-worldish locations present in America. As cleverly as Usual Suspects or The Sixth Sense plays with narrative information, Masked and Anonymous plays with all levels of information (visual, historical, musical, allusional) to create a rich world for an intricate world of relationships to parade about.

The entire story is delightful to watch because once you get what it's really about, you don't worry about the things you normally have on your mind with other films. It's about a benefit concert. Will the show go on? Will it be shut down? Cancelled? Banned? When you understand what the film is actually saying, you realize it makes no difference at all if the show goes on or not. You don't get caught up in plot and character development like you do in other films. But that doesn't mean there's nothing interesting to follow. There are many interesting relationships between all the people of the movie. But the characters move along like in a Bob Dylan song. When the one-eyed midget shouts the word "Now!", that's all there is to think about. You can consider what it all means, but it doesn't really matter who the midget meets for dinner that night and what they're gonna talk about.

The acting is great. I love Giovanni Ribisi's cameo. John Goodman and Jeff Bridges are always fun to watch. And their parts are really interesting, so even after many viewings, I wanna watch it again and see what they're really all about.

The movie doesn't so much have a plot as motifs. There is some plot, but the motifs are stronger and the important parts. When you watch the movie you have to watch in a totally different way than other movies.

I feel like I get tossed around in a sea of ideas by the language and warped around reality and imagination in the visual images of the film. It's not the climax and release structure of other films.

It's the kind of movie that feels good to quote, like a good Bob Dylan lyric.

Famous Mysterious Actor quote of the week

About Ray Charles:
"If there's anybody who likes trophies more than blind people it's dead people. You always see zombies going, "RRrrr, I want a Emmmmyyy. I wanna eat it's metally brains."

Closest thing I have to LEAVE IT TO BEAVER

Last night, I did something I don’t often do. Something I just try not think about.. I called my brother. And we talked for hours. My brother and I aren’t estranged or anything. We just don’t really have much in common. He’s a huge sports junkie and loves to work out. I read comics and would rather hang out. We just never see eye to eye.

I called him with a techno-question (How can I change DVDs into realplayer files on my computer?) and he just accused me of doing something geeky with it. He was right. I wanted to add lightsabers to a sword fight on THE PRINCESS BRIDE, but that’s neither here nor there.
But there I was, trying hard to have a normal conversation with the lil’ bro. Then he said something great. “Dude, I’m almost done with a script.” And BAM, there it was. The one thing that my little bro and I have that’s real and hospitable and enjoyable for both of us. We both love movies and would like to write them.

That’s the only way we could have talked for hours. We only spoke about movies. What was good, what was bad and what was bad but really cool. He talked about his script. He even asked me my opinion on certain things. It was great. I felt like the older brother. “I’d try this,” or “maybe you should do this.” He listened , too. I talked about form and structure and he just agreed or said things like, “good point,” or “Okay I see know.”

We worked out the ending to his script. We both felt really good about it, but then a lull hit in the conversation. We had that moment of silence and it was noticeable. My lil’ bro even asked if I was still there. He thought his phone went out on him. I tried to get the conversation up again, but slipped.

“Have you seen CONSTATINE, yet?”
“Dude, I’m not a geek like you. I don’t go and see every comic book movie out there.”
“But you knew that it was a comic book movie.”
“Yeah, because I have a big geek for brother.”

We were done. I hung up the phone and went back to reading (a real book) and he probably went back to making his man collages from his MEN”S FITNESS clippings. But we were there. We talked like we were friends. It was nice. But I’m still mad because I never learned how to make DVD movies into an Mpeg file.

Fuckafuckafucka! It's Mr. Chair's Comic Book Pick of the Week!

While this week's Detective Comics by David Lapham is really sweet, the winner is Angry Youth Comix, #8. "13 Nauseating Tales of Heart-Throbbing Filth." They only come out occasionally, but when they do, Angry Youth Comix are packed with laughs that last for months. I still bust out old issues and reread them and show them to people, who either laugh hysterically or getting really disgusted and don't want to talk to me anymore. But fuck them! This issue loses some points because it's all about the main characters, Loady McGee and Synus O'Gynus. They're very funny, but I always prefer the side characters, like Boobs Pooter, Sherlock McRape, Baby Johnson and My Stupid Wife. It's still really funny though, and loaded with just about every type of offensive material you can imagine. AYC is guaranteed like nothing you've ever read. Filthy, horrible, hilarious, racist, violent, perverted, and so on. Not for the faint of heart, but for those who like a good shock from the normal boring stuff, this is the only thing to read. And where else can you see the phrases, "Nickel-Faggots," and "Unicorn Pussy," in the same publication? Thanks to Dr. Chase for changing my life by introducing me to Angry Youth Comix!

STOLEN FROM OPTIC NERVE P.2.