another random life event

i was leaving the district tonight, slightly high and content with the days events, when suddenly an array of lights and sirens from at least a dozen cops filled the road behind me. i briefly judged my own driving over the past minute to ensure that i wasn't responsible for this intense police response. i wasn't. instead of being asked to keep my hands on the wheel i was being 'belled and whistled' forward into the intersection. as requested, i moved out into the intersection where i would sit as the cruisers weaved around me and off to save the world. it was a moment later when i realised exactly what the cops were doing out. as i pulled into the intersection i was immediately joined by a rust red nissan pathfinder, sprinting from my left, that swerved around my front end and off into the distance. he was followed by the dozen cops behind me and the few that were already in pursuit of the pathfinder. i just witnessed a high speed chase. as the amazement of the situation faded i thought about how a high speed chase isn't normally something seen in real life but is rather found in your typical action flick* or the la freeway. ...adding to my list of random life events. #2,179: witnessed a high speed chase. *the action flick link was originally the chase scene from the french connection, hailed by most as the first car chase in cinema. i later changed it to the transporter simply because i love the opening chase scene.

coachella

the 3day music festival in indio, california has assembled a pretty good bill for it's late april show including a third day ending finale of manu chao with radio bemba followed by the reunion of rage against the machine. stephen marley featuring jr. gong, ghostface killah, the brazilian girls, the roots and the chili peppers round out the bill nicely.

suits and straightjackets and cashback

during a past fff, a character briefly mentioned my suits and straightjackets theory. i thought i would take a moment to broaden and bring some understanding to the theory. before i continue, i must recognise that there are two types of people other than myself. there are (1) those of you lucky enough to not have to suffer through the angst of wearing a suit as a daily routine, and there are (2) those of you who may actually enjoy wearing a suit, believing that it brings a sense of accomplishment, importance and professionalism to your career and life. it doesn't. for me and those like me, the suit isn't a choice. the suit is an inconvenient, uncomfortable aspect of a job probably hated if for nothing other than the uniform; the straightjacket. the suit, merely itchy at first, becomes tighter with passing hours, strangling every part of my body and leaving behind the pins and needles felt throughout as my fingers and toes go numb. the suit coat weighs heavy on my shoulders and ties down my arms, the pants stiffen, cramping my legs and the tie hangs like a thousand pound noose around my neck. physically exhausted from it's weight, i feel the threads of the suit begin to weave themselves into my skin - it'll bind to me forever if i don't remove it soon. the suits handle on me grows a little each day thriving on it's eventual takeover and my becoming what i hate most: a suit. the suit near unbearable, i try to divert my mind toward cheating time; fast-forwarding until i reach home where the suit tears away at me as i tear away at it. i concentrate my day on loosing track of time by avoiding clocks, playing stupid games for added distraction and daydreaming about life. it is oddly reminiscent of sean ellis's recent short film cashback in which a young grocery worker discusses life on the night shift - notice the girl sporting the penn state sweatshirt (my alma mater). ellis's oscar-nominated short is brief genius and reminded me of a fantasy i recently discovered when reading nicholson baker's the fermata, a book i will definitely read again. i highly recommend watching the short and reading the book; they are both great works of art. my recommendation must come with a disclaimer that both mediums contain adult content and thus i must insist that you ask an adult before enjoying either - and you will enjoy them, trust me.

subway: eat what?

while trekking across the city today i stopped by the local subway to fill my empty stomach. with the perfect sandwich in mind i walked into a completely vacant restaurant immediately filled with the joy of being the next, first and only person in line. i approached the counter, standing like a pro under the 'order here' sign, when i suddenly realised the restaurant was void of both patron and employee. with the faint sound of running water coming from further within, i waited patiently until my solitude began to weigh on my time schedule. with a more than friendly knock on the glass, two eyes flashed from around a corner beyond the cash register. the eyes fled briefly, rounded the corner and were then followed by the pleasant smile of a young woman. with places to be, i got right to the task at hand, sharply delivering step one of the subway process: 'foot long, subway melt on wheat.' she pulls and cuts a white roll. maybe she misheard me? 'wheat,' i restated and with a soft 'sorry' she switched rolls, pointing at the wheat for my approval before pulling it from its tray. what i soon came to realise was that the nice woman preparing my sandwich didn't understand a vast majority of what i was saying. my expeditious stop for the long awaited sandwich in jeopardy, i found myself in a panic, pointing at some meats and cheeses, discarding others. i would point, she would point and with an agreeing nod, the selected would make it's way to the bread. the finger pointing method was working well until we stalled out looking for the bacon (a key element for any truly great sandwich). after a 10minute search for the bacon, i was about ready to forget the sandwich all together and get on my way down the road when a second, unexpected employee turned the corner from the back room. the language barrier, smaller but still stifling what should be a fast process, the second employee toasted the sub after which we began working through the second step: the veggies, sauces and spices. at this point, it was not to my surprise that they were out of barbecue sauce and didn't even carry old bay seasoning; nor did they have coca-cola available (neither bottled nor fountain varieties). i paid (the unfortunate third step), waiting another 10minutes for a pen to sign off on the now cold sandwich. totally discouraged with my half hour subway stop and now well behind schedule, i left, cola-less, with my partially constructed sandwich and a sour attitude. the sourness past relatively quickly and after adding barbecue sauce and old bay from my own kitchen the sandwich was quite good. in future, i will, however, avoid the local subway in hopes of dealing with faster food.

schwaggy

in recent weeks i have come across a run of some really awful schwaggy grass. i call it schwaggy because it isn't exactly schwag, but it isn't exactly grass either. it's been a real disappointment for someone who gets maybe a few hours a day to even come close to relaxing. this strand of shitty grass has interrupted my enjoyment and relaxation on more than one occasion and has upset me enough to deliver this post. the quality of recent herb has been staggering. in the last couple weeks i have had the harshest, the most bitter and one of the most fleeting grasses i have ever smoked. 3 different grasses, each with it's own different terrible result. now my throat is sore, my mouth still tastes tart and my head, far too sober. why not just buy better herb? simply because i have a hard enough time trying to pay rent and gas my car - better herb isn't always the easiest, best solution. nevertheless, plans are already in the works to fix past spliff tragedies. with any luck these joints will be left far behind us with nothing but wonderful, smooth, long-lived tastiness in our future. goodbye schwaggy grass. here's to tasty trees. until next time, this is i wishing everyone sticky, green wishes and cannabis dreams. may all your smokes be good smokes. good night.

superme

i told you i was a superhero. i told you my uniform was under my suit. well this survey outed me. 90% will power and imagination, 90% fast and flirtatious. my secret is out. i'll save you. i am the green lantern. i have strong will power and a good imagination. i am the flash. i am fast and flirtatious. (superme is unfortunately unable to figure out how to get rid of all this empty space.)

green lantern		90%
the flash		90%
iron man		65%
robin		65%
hulk		60%
batman		60%
spider-man		55%
supergirl		55%
catwoman		55%
superman		50%
wonder woman		45%

maybe you can be a superhero too.

punk'd out

i caught a preview on television this evening of some movie starring an overly-tatted justin timberlake which made me probe the obvious questions regarding the validity of a movie willing to star everyone's favourite mousketeer. as the preview ended i sat, stunned, feeling as though i must had just been punk'd by mr. moore. it occurred to me moments later that my favorite justin timberlake moment is watching him bawl to his mommy while the punk'd irs repossess all his stuff. please be aware that i am in no way condoning the show punk'd or it's creator - the show is absolutely awful. kutcher and his clan of cronies blew their load on the timberlake episode and have never come close to matching it's caliber. their faces (token trucker hats included) plastered all over hollywood for half a second provided all the warning the rest of the 'beautiful people' needed to catch on to these pseudo-jackass wannabe's game. by the second season kutcher had become obsolete, leaving his face and voice behind for hosting purposes. the cast had to be refreshed in a desperation attempt to revive the element of surprise to the show. quickly running out of ideas and celebrities to punk they turned to us, the public, for continued 'quality programming:' punking the everyday teenage girl shopping with her friends or a random guy just trying to take his date to dinner. punk'd had suddenly become candid camera. punk'd had punked out. still punking the occasional b or c list celebrity, the cast and crew couldn't live up to the challenge they had set for themselves - punking the currently famous icons. any idiot can plan on pulling a practical joke on an everyday jack or jill, but it takes a sly hand and a conniving mind to punk those people we all want to watch cry to their mommies. a truly successful punk should be well researched, developed and then brilliantly unleashed on it's prey. why not punk donald trump by locking out his bank accounts and canceling all his credit cards? now that would be a punk to be proud of. instead the show is a nothing more than a bunch of punks who are only punking themselves. i suppose kutcher and company had two options; punk out or man up - thank you for punking out and saving us all from your shit programming.

intolerable ignorance

a co-worker of mine today said that she hopes if/when she has children, ideally 5children, that they are gay like her. for someone who isn't afraid to announce to the world that she's gay and won't hold back a second to tell off anyone who's opinion differs from her own, i was shocked at such a statement from someone i had thought to be a more open-minded individual. her ignorance was astonishing and when i called her on it, she started to tell me off when i said that 'it would be no different than someone hoping for all straight children.' she could, of course, see the wrong in that situation and had to agree with my assessment. argument won easily enough. still, i didn't appreciate such ignorance. open your mind.

traffic jam

i drive my little piece of shit car all over the pothole-encrusted streets of this city, often feeling like every suv-driving-asshole is purposely trying to slow my travels to a crawl. it seems that no matter how much time i allow myself to reach a given destination the inevitable cluster-fuck of asshole-drivers surround me with an array of break lights and quick turns (without signal). even when i beat those assholes with a series of amazing maneuvers and lightning speed the district finds a way to fuck me up the tailpipe with the usual construction zone or inconvenient detour. and of course i have found the joy of really needed to get somewhere through the rush-hour traffic only to have the road bite back and leave me changing a tire after an crater in the asphalt tried to swallow my car. the streets of dc truly are an unparalleled obstacle course even greater than those marc summers would have you and your family running on double dare. add some rain to the dc turf and you too could be slipping and sliding around town like your family through the slime. whether you have 60seconds on the clock or 60minutes to get across town, the course is designed for failure. the obstacles, be it slide and slime or assholes and potholes, will, with near certainty, always make you late to the finish line. in my travels i have to keep a tight schedule and thus always allow enough time to reach any desired destination. it's not a lack of planning or time management on my part. it is the assholes and obstacles on the road that contribute to my angst toward dc driving. if only i didn't have to share the road with all the assholes, bitches, motherfuckers and other foes that have been cursed from my lips as i race past; the streets would be empty and the driving, dare i say, enjoyable - potholes excluded. ironically the same city streets that i loathe with such passion will be encompassing me in a matter of weeks when i move further into the heart of dc. you probably think that i'll end up driving in more of the traffic i hate but the reality is that i'll be driving significantly less; hopefully placing myself minutes away from the job and several other places of interest. instead of sitting behind the wheel yelling at the traffic gods, i could be walking (taking the physical challenge) in front of cars whose drivers would be yelling about me. it sounds blissful. driving will still be part of my daily routine and the roads will still be tainted with holes. but maybe we can take all the asses and fill all the pots.

the chronicles of narnia

after all the hype while it was in theatres, i finally saw it. truth be told, i find it sad that i get more enjoyment out of a 2.5minute snl spoof about the chronic-(what?)-cles of narnia than the movie itself. if you haven't seen it, check out the skit. it's hilarious and one of the only funny things to come out of snl in the last 5years.

holiday season: just add patience

i've always held great distain for the holiday season. it has always been a time that continuously presents me with constant worry, stress and opportunity for huge error. this holiday season was no different and lived up to every expectation. it included the usual family debacle spiced up with added house guests and inconvenient circumstances. add a dash of near unbearably bad timing and an unimaginably nauseating rollercoaster of emotions and you are left with an all too familiar series of 'christmas miracles' - some of which are still turning my stomach. the unfortunate events of my sickening holiday season don't allow me look for sympathy or a sedative because i cooked up this recipe on my own and, thus, have to eat what i stewed. the harsh words, raised voices and sarcastic undertones contributed to a variety of arguments too wretched to rehash now and too bitter to ever want to taste again (like aloe). i realised, only after having more than my fill, that the cuisine could've tasted so much better if i had added one main ingredient: patience. one might think that adding some patience to the holiday seasoning must mean that i typically boil in conversation when i simply need to simmer. the truth of the matter is that i am one of the most level-headed people you could ever meet and the patience isn't to keep me from blowing up; but rather keep me from giving up. i all too often misplace the patience, or forget to add it to the recipe, and then after about 5hours of cooking up the same fight i loose the ambition to continue stirring the sauce and just let it burn. sure, it'll taste like shit, but i've lost the patience to make it flavorful for everyone and, typically, give in. if i just add patience to the mix i would be closer to the perfect recipe and creating something that everyone can enjoy. no one likes being forced to eat sour meat and i feel terrible that some had to even smell it in the air. future arguments will find me with spoonfuls of patience at hand in order to prevent distasteful concoctions and create gourmet happiness. together - we will eat fine home-cooked cuisine again.