The Last Semester: Cut-Up

A frequent posting meant to document my final semester of undergraduate studies. Lazy, wandering journal entries for posterity's sake.

friday night parties. Zencu in Little Tokyo for Poda's b-day. she was one of the first people i met here at university. sake bombs, stuffed calamari, grand roll. a beautiful beginning. Denny and i enjoy the views of a SI swimsuit program on TNT during dinner. then back to the apartment, with pabst in hand. then to the big red house where Brown, Peabody and Monsieur Rager have nicked some champagne from the inside 'sophomoric' party (in all the senses they assure me). eventually some roomies show up and we're off to an old parisian amie, Sia.

its a small get-together but nice. Pfff tries to get Sia to take a body shot off of him. she respectfully declines. the house runs out of cigarettes. Joe and Julie say they'll stick around if i go run get some from the 76 down the street. with Feels in my ear i'm off.

hood on, head down to deter any interested parties. cigarettes acquired. pause on the scaffolding taco shop across the way. sit, smoke, and bob my head along to the music. then continue heading back. pass my old building. haven't broken a window in the main entrance in a while. figure its time for it. and afterward i'll just hop out the back - a shortcut to the party. tall metal fence with sharp arrowheads of steel on top. around the side i use an adjacent fence to hopefully propel me over the steel arrows. the second fence begins to sway and i go for it, slicing the side of palm under my pinky open.

fuck.

it doesn't hurt too bad. good thing i had a buzz going. i light a cigarette and walk back to the party. "anybody sober enough to drive?" i'm convinced to call DPS. they take my info and then escort me to Good Sam, Kevin, whom i met earlier, comes as well. the woman DPS officer gets a picture after dropping me at the hospital. i get in to the emergency room easily enough and then wait. next to me is an obese shirtless hispanic man named William. he is having trouble staying conscious. the male nurse takes a picture of my cut. i hear slaps next door and calm shouts of "William. William. We need you to wake up." I look over and see him knocked out with tubes going into his nose. slap, slap, slap. "William, honey." i stare over. his eyes are closed. the nurse catches me and pulls the curtain. After some more slaps William starts to gurgle and mumbles, "Awwwgh! It GHurrts!" more of the same for the rest of the night. i got out at about 4 30 to find Kevin, Will, and Chelsey waiting outside to give me a lift home.

can't hold a guitar neck is possible bad news for a Clue Jr. reunion on march 2nd. but it also means more computer music for me. hopefully i won't fall prey to self-pity and laziness. fingers crossed!

The Last Semester: Week-End

A frequent posting meant to document my final semester of undergraduate studies. Lazy, wandering journal entries for posterity's sake.



its raining in the Grapevine. takes us almost two hours to get there because the friday traffic. although i didn't know at the time the back tires on Bear's car are completely bald. car starts to catch puddles. we seem to float across four lanes then we settle into the far right lane at humble 55 mph. Bear handles it but its damn scary. My 'Road To Max(imum Overdrive)' CD doesn't work in the car. We stop at a Best Buy in Gilroy to Coo's chagrin. New blank cd works and the mix gets us into San Jose in 45 minutes. But no. We go to Sonoma Chicken Coop in Campbell where Overdrive's birthday dinner is finishing up. Hello's then temporary goodbye's as we head to Overdrive's apartment for the bash.

Mickey's, Sierra Nevada, Apricot Ale. Blurry names. Shepherd from Firefly? Leo the Brit? Ms. Hip corners me on several occasions and calls me 'irritating' and two other non-flattering adjectives i don't (care to) recall. i add worthless to her list. Overdrive shows me some incredible Ratatat remixes. as the evening wanes, Ms. Hip and i argue music. The Brit (sans accent) tells us to shut the fuck up. then me specifically. "(Overdrive), i love you, i love most of your friends." mood soured, sleep enjoyed.

Slow morning. Fantastic scene in front of the bathroom mirror with four or five people in their applying makeup, teeth brushing, hair combing, talking as Interpol plays on the small stereo. Then to Cafe San Jose for some delicious hangover cures. Then to Goodwill and the acquisition of a nice croquet set and a Cosby LP for Peabody. Followed by croquet in the park. Your humble author taking the prize both games. Video games and lethargy back at Overdrive's apartment. Then to Berkeley.

Bear's car takes us past Oakland with the tunes of Ms. Hip. a Diplo mix. fine, i guess. We hang out at Qua's house and watch Rain Man. "what's hummus?" the Bear asks. "its greek for dip," i reply. Car 2 carrying Overdrive, Captain America, and Joe French arrives and we head out for burritos, pitchers of beer and I, Robot in spanish. A walk through Berkeley campus gets us to the row of bars. "Brrr, It's Cold!" Sports Bar filled with Berkeley gear. BroTV bores, so Bear takes to the jukebox. "Drain You", "Soul to Squeeze" and some CCR to begin the reminiscing. Then Overdrive steps up (after two whiskey shots from Bear) with "New Year's Day", "Hey Joe" and another that escapes me. The place fills up. A smoke break takes us outside to meet the Joke Writer. Jokes had his "old lady's" guitar and told us how he loved life and once sold jokes to George Carlin on the streets of New York for 50 bucks ("you think those cops over there speak pig latin?").

Then a long walk to a billiards bar. Drinks all around (Racer 5 IPA was it?). A guy in Kanye glasses sparks me to proclaim "808s & Heartbreak til i die!" Observation by Overdrive about your humble author, "your level of intoxication is inversely related to your respect for authority." Captain America is does not adjust his trajectory for bushes or trees. Bear is checking all doors. Wine bottles crash to the ground from a recycling can. The point of going out to bars is to enjoy the walk home. A phone book (my achilles heel) knocks me out of a tree. i climb the scaffolding of the building next to Qua's apartment. i jump from roof B to roof A where we spend the rest of the night enjoying the view, drinking vodka, tossing pots ("when we're drunk we do things that just are not cool"), bullshitting and listening to Autolux.



Waking up on hardwood floor at noon. A Firestone is spotted on the way out of Berkeley. We decide to fix the bald tires in order to survive the Gilroy road and Grapevine once again. Lunch at a burger joint owned by two brothers raised by their grandfather. They've got "sweet plus (chuckles)" but no splenda. Wandering. Another Goodwill visit. less successful. Catch the end of the Lakers v. Cavs game (LeBron is sloppy). Leaving Berkeley by 3:30 with Merriweather Post Pavillion dominating the soundscape of Bear's car. the sea and "My Girls" and we're fucking floating. land in San Jose after the album ends. Moan's depiction of "Wham City" (inset) is incredible and a summation of that week-end as it was coming to its undesired end. Overdrive to work. World's Strongest Ghost promises made. To Santa Cruz to acquire the Coo. Successfully brave the Gilroy and the Grapevine (thanks to the new treads) to get back to "home" by 1 in the AM.

Merriweather Post Pavilion now belongs to that one perfect week-end.

The Last Semester: Mike The Uncle

A frequent posting meant to document my final semester of undergraduate studies. Lazy, wandering journal entries for posterity's sake.



After a night of hipsters & coke followed by brown & tecate, i was picked up from my house at 8 in the morn by my cousin's best friend, Jess. Returned home on a saturday for my uncle Mike's 50th birthday. It was supposed to be a surprise (and i think it was). Mike is an amazing person. His oldest son is a year older than me and his youngest a year older than my brother. Our families have been close because of the bond between Mike's parents and my mom's parents. Mike now lives alone in Blythe and runs his dad's Autoparts store. He also drives offroad racecars. And as my dad said at some point in the night, "Its about time this family had something to celebrate. This same group has only been seeing each other at funerals recently. This is good." And it was. Cousin and her boyfriend smoke a J in the car on the way home. I drift in and out of coherence staring at the empty desert.

The Last Semester: Twolovers

A frequent posting meant to document my final semester of undergraduate studies. Lazy, wandering journal entries for posterity's sake.

First discussion for my philosophy class. Not to be mean but there's some lame people in there. Some kid says the worst movie he's heard about (though not seen) is Slumdog Millionaire because they pronounce "millionaire" like "mill-a-naire." Some pretentious mathematics kid in a wheelchair (he doesn't get an asshole pass because he has a disability) talked at length about how great Benjamin Button was without ever actually saying anything. I think I'll see that friday.

Signed up for film symposium. Leonard is kind of cool. Grampy cartoon that precluded the screening reminded me of a Santa Grampy, inset. I hope to find the VHS tape that I know this from when i go home this weekend. Two Lovers was screened. Painfully realistic, and not in a good way. I've never understood the complaint that things are too real ... until now. I saw myself on screen in some of the worst ways. I could see this being somewhat cathartic for the creator but what did he want an audience to get out of this? Message was clear about 20 minutes in and then he just subjected us to an hour and a half more of tense discomfort. That unease was not worth the message. Not to mention how self-aggrandizing it was. The two lovers in the picture often lobbed compliments at the protagonist (a retarded Marlon Brando-esque Joaquin Phoenix) about how great he was in the sack and what a great "artist" he was (he took black and white photos and loved movies ... here's to transparency). Better movie about a sociopath in New York with love problems? Taxi Driver.

The Last Semester: Goodlands

A frequent posting meant to document my final semester of undergraduate studies. Lazy, wandering journal entries for posterity's sake.

Documentary class at 9 in the morn. Thoughts of being a film professor. Emphasis necessary? Don't like the idea of being stuck in an area of study. See ex-girlfriend's best friend. Ex in Israel now, i believe. Haven't spoken to her. Beginning Filmmaking screened. Cruel and unusual punishment of a documentary filmmaker's child. Discussing 'story,' 'composition,' and 'focus' with a three-year-old is torture. Grizzly Man also screened. Incredible. Both protagonists are children. One dies because of that fact. She'll die, too, but for a different reason ... most likely. Gorky's description of Lumière's first film screening is simultaneously thrilling and frightening. To NewBev for Badlands. I love that film. The perspective is touching. It covers small town folks in a way i'd like to accomplish some day. I finish mom's German-chocolate cake.

The Last Semester: Philosophy for College Students

A frequent posting meant to document my final semester of undergraduate studies. Lazy, wandering journal entries for posterity's sake.

Philosophy class, first day. Questions: What is Philosophy? Who am I? Why are we here? What is the meaning of life? Answers (mine): The study of knowledge ... and stuff. A lazy fool. Because. If i knew i wouldn't be here. The class feels like a very "this is what college is like" course. Full of what should be "heavy" ideas that after four years of study feel somewhat hollow. I finish reading Of Mice and Men. It took me over two months. The ending was most satisfying.

Graduate level Global Cinema Pre-WWII at night. Graduate students just as ridiculous as undergraduate students: "For those of us that aren't "Critical Studies" students," the girl asks, not even trying to hide her disdain, "could you lay out what it is that actually want from our film responses? Like should i talk about how my aunt grew up in such and such a time and place and remembers this movie?" Oh, film students. Casanblanca was screened. That movie is so beautiful (made even more astonishing in its 35mm print). Rick Blaine is one of the best characters in contemporary fiction. The close-ups of Ingrid Bergman are breathtaking. Claude Rains is one of my favorite character actors. This is one of those moments in Hollywood where everything and everyone comes together (writing, directing, acting, music, etc.) and produces that which is most rare in Hollywood: art. Beautiful, timeless art.

The Last Semester: Lazy Day One

A frequent posting meant to document my final semester of undergraduate studies. Lazy, wandering journal entries for posterity's sake.

First class of the last semester of school started at 6:00 in the evening. I got out of bed at 12:00. Coffee, two vitamin C tablets, a One-A-Day pill, bagel (cinnamon-raisin). Worked on a Sam Cooke remix that turned out surprisingly good. Class in the big theater at 6:00. Film Theories by a Jon W. Smart guy. Hand and brain worn out by the end of lecture. Rossellini's Stromboli screened. "Dio! ... Dio mio!" Ingrid Bergman's beautiful face screamed repeatedly at the end. Witnessing the fishing sequence was magnificent. Rossellini's realism kind of bores me. I get drunk off white wine and Budweiser American Ale. The beer isn't so good.