Month: March 2005

  • oh yeah and did i mention last week, i got my first ticket ever…
    written up at 110 mph… *sigh* oops.. my days of speeding are done. i
    am content. if i coulda just paid the fine up front for the awesome 7
    years of speeding, i would have (easily less than 50 cents per minute
    over 100mph) 

  • new beck album “guero” finally releases this tuesday, march 29 and is
    supposed to totally kick ass.  featuring the dust brothers (fight
    club etc..) and jack white… leaving that pansy ass sea change era
    behind and returning to the awesome beck of odelay. 

    also shirley manson is still freaking hot.

    in other news..
    ——————————–

    same ole stuff at work, except now i’m finding myself going back and
    reading my organic chemistry book. i miss it.  it finally now
    seems super important to me… wanna get into coatings and stuff…
    material sciencish stuff…

    went out to the desert last weekend for two nights of camping over an
    hr from the nearest paved road, accesible only by 4×4 through a pretty
    rugged road.  for those not cool enough to have such a place to
    camp as the vast barren wilderness of southern ca.. yer missing
    out.  we camped on this dry lakebed… but due to crazy rain
    lately… it’s got a lotta bushes on it… but still… a few like
    stretches a mile long that’s perfectly flat… so we brought a few
    toys… several gocarts… that went like 30mph on this flat lakebed..
    so we were having fun doing 360′s and wut not.  a nice rugged 3
    wheeler that i went for miles exploring stuff with… and a totally
    awesome 450cc motocross dirt bike… i was going like 90mph through
    bushes and stuff.. totally awesome.. did this all day getting bugs in
    my teeth and mud and wut not all over… then come night fall… we got
    all drunk and did it all over again. something awesome about just
    riding way out into the perfect darkness with tons of stars… drunk… ;) truly awesome.  i seriously need to buy a dirt bike. that is
    the way to cross that desert.. jumping over bushes and wut not… doing
    wheelies.  then also a buncha shooting…

    and now, something chris cheung will truly appreciate while playing his
    air guitar… :) found a camp that had pulled up and left a buncha junk
    behind… such rude bastards… so they left two big ass igloo ice
    chests… i dragged them out in the middle of the lake bed… filled
    then each with 8 gallons of gas… threw in a buncha duralogs… those
    things are like wax candles supposedly and every lil fragment burns…
    basically mixed with gas… made perfect napolm.  so i lit both
    ice chests… a neat thing about gas is that it only burns with proper
    air, therefore only the surface of a pool of it will burn… therefore
    making 2  8 gallon gasoline candles which i placed about 30 feet
    apart.  i then proceeded to shoot them repeatedly with my vintage
    1914 riverside arms double barrel shotgun and i swear it was the most
    awesome thing ever.  as the shot punctured lil holes through…
    gas would spray out and ignite making a huge mushroom cloud fireball…
    then the molten duralog material would scatter across the desert
    leaving elabortate lil flicking flames that burned for like 20
    minutes…  it was like 1000 candles in the middle of the
    desert.  also shot a 1911 style .45 pistol… and a magnum .44…
    both are rather monstorous guns… and basically… my ears are still
    ringing… hearings been bad all week.  too much drunken target
    practice with no ear plugs… awesome ;)   tried out a new tent…
    that was monstrous… 10′ x 15′ and 7 feet tall.  that’s like as
    big as a room in an house out in the desert… unfortunately i think it
    was too bad cuz sunday morning hte winds picked up and the thing would
    like bend over flat.  anyway it was my totally awesome lil homage
    to hunter s. thomson.  then blah blah blah back to work monday…

    electing for a lazy weeked this past one… andy and some hs friends
    came over and we had a bonfire in my backyard.  but for some
    reason we’re jinxed… all the rain has made the wood extra
    obnoxious… so we were working on getting it going, already a bit
    drunk and herbally enhanced… when josh goes to douse the fire with
    gas… and just like on tv… he does it too slow and it burns up the
    stream into the can… so this big fireball goes up joshes arm and he
    dives back into deep dry grass… luckily he sorta realizes it and
    tosses the can back onto the concrete… but it’s a big ole flame now
    too close to the grass.  so my sister takes the hose as i’m
    turning it on and i say ‘don’t spray the fire directly!!!’ but girls
    will be girls and she does… and it just poofs up more… but then gas
    is floating on the water and burning… the flames are moving around
    following the water currents… it was totally awesome…eventually we
    got enough water out… and that was the end of that ;) disaster
    averted!!!

    yesterday went out in the afternoon to sail a bit around dana point.
    got my fill of sea air and sun. too much fast food this weekend
    though…. *sigh* bleh….

  • is there any band today that dave grohl DOESN’T play drums for? jeeezzus… jeeezzus christ…

    garbage new album “bleed like me” in stores april 12.

    nin “with teeth” may 3.

  • for the last several years now i have related to a few select people
    here and there  the sad story of my uncle rick.  while this
    story is long, it is worth reading perhaps in the way that “house of
    sand and fog” or “million dollar baby” are worth watching.  in
    high school he was a popular guy, loved by everyone because he was so
    genuinely friendly open and honest.  it was a kind of honesty and
    gulibility that inspired trust.  naturally then, he became a
    salesman because as he said , he had the “gift of gab.”  and the
    end of high school though, he got tied down by the first woman who came
    along.  she was a quiet, cold hands kind of girl who saw big $
    signs over his head.  she also saw though, from the tutelage of
    her mother, that men were evil and should be dominated, abused, and
    belittled to keep them in line.  my parents relate how they once
    had the sad experience of meeting her parents.  her father was one
    of the nicest men ever, got along with everyone, funny and soulful. and
    yet everywhere they went, his wife would sit at the other end of the
    table telling everyone how worthless her husband was.  and so my
    uncle rick’s wife grew to believe that was the way of the world. 

    at the age of 17 she started doing his laundry, and cooking for
    him.  but she also started taking his paychecks, and handling all
    the finances.  rick never really learned how to live because his
    wife did it for him.  still though, he was successful at work and
    could pay the bills.  while such a relationship might seem cute at
    first, they often tend to lead to a loss of respect.  when the
    woman realizes her man is helpless on his own it’s hard to really be
    attracted to him.  by the time they got around to having children,
    she had kicked him out of the masterbedroom and banished him to a
    distant room.  i visited their house perhaps only once when i was
    young, but it was an eerie kind of place.  i remember at the time,
    only being perhaps 8 years old, that there was something not quite
    right in the air and i had this strong urge to get out fast. 

    she dutifully raised the children to hate their father for no other
    than reason than the fact that she somehow hated him.  and yet of
    course it was a love hate relationship, because he paid the
    bills.  she yelled at him to make more money, so he did.  but
    soon, with a house full of children raised to hate their father and an
    angry bitch of a wife it wasn’t the most friendly of places for him to
    be.  in large part he was banished to his room, where he would sit
    at nights watching a small 9″ black and white television, alone. 
    he would eat tv dinners, and imagine what it would be like to have a
    loving family.  he liked to think he had a loving family, but when
    he went he left his room to go the bathroom, the children would stare
    and leer.  as they got older, they learned how to cuss and would
    call him a “worthless piece of shit” etc…  trying to find
    something to pass the time in those miserable late 80′s, early 90′s..
    rick went through police academy to become a part-time cop as a
    supplement to his day job 1) because his wife always wanted more money
    and 2)it gave him something to do at night besides sit in his room
    alone.

    rick had a lot of fun being a cop at night, and he liked to volunteer
    for the worst neighborhoods for some reason.  everyone worried
    that a big dopey white guy would be killed instantly in the mexican
    barrio, but as it turned out he was simply too nice and too gulible,
    kinda like barney fife, to ever be seen as much of a threat.  on
    several occaisons, he had long friendly conversations with armed gunmen
    on the run, after which he would let them go, never being the
    wiser.  eventually the police department realized he was too nice
    and gullible to be a cop, so they let him go.  when you are cop
    these days, you purchase your own sidearm and it is registered to you
    for life.  he kept it somewhere in his little room for many years
    afterward.  meanwhile, his wife continued to pile on nonsensical
    demeaning and hurtful rules.  for example, she kept him on a
    strict allowance of 5 dollars a week.  he was not allowed any
    discretionary income whatsoever.  if he wanted a cheeseburger, he
    woudl have to think long and hard because it would be the only one of
    the week.  also, though he worked close to home and could visit on
    lunch breaks, he was barred from entering the house between 7am and
    6pm.  personally, i suspect his wife must have been banging the
    pool boy or something, but he dutifully obliged.  his wife of
    course, never held a job in her life.  she was above
    working.  but simaltaneously, rick never made enough money. 
    he was making a 130k a year on only a hs degree, and yet she still
    bitched they were poor.  of course, the kids all got new cars…
    but the wife told rick that they were paying for their brand new 30k
    cars on their part time jobs at starbucks.  hey, what can i say,
    rick was gullible.  also, his wife frequently went on vacation to
    the bahamas, the carribean etc… but of course rick was never
    invited.  he was forbidden from family vacations.  the
    children had everything, but rick had nothing.

    as the kids grew older into their teens, they became even more abusive
    and rick became even more depressed.  he came from a big family
    with loving parents and siblings and so he just couldnt’ understand why
    he couldn’t have it himself with his own wife.  eventually the
    room became so lonely out of boredom he began to drink.  if i were
    in his shoes, i woulda gone straight to black tar heroin.  but
    nonetheless, he fell into a few beers at first.  then a six
    pack.  afterall, there wasn’t much else for him in life. 
    soon though his wife began to count the beer cans pile up, and it gave
    her even more reason to hate him.  she called him in a worthless
    drunk, so he checked himself into AA.  at least he had something
    to do now, something besides work and his little room.  and so
    things went for many years… weekly AA meetings.  he would come
    to the numerous family events of ours, but of course his wife and kids
    never came.  they were forbidden from seeing anyone on his side of
    the family.  i never really knew my cousins, other than the fact
    that they were a buncha worthless ungrateful mother fuckers. 
    eventually as the 2000′s rolled around, rick began to realize that the
    last 30 years of his life had been wasted.  he was 50 and had
    nothing to show for it even though he had a good job and a wife and
    kids.  it slowly began to build in him, until christmas 2004 he
    confessed to my grandparents and i and the rest of our family that he
    was miserable and should get a divorce.  we all told him, it was
    about damn time, we all hated the bitch.  time went on and he
    began to realize how truly miserable he was, but he still didn’t leave
    the bitch.  he felt duty bound to be the provider, even though the
    kids were grown now the oldest son 22, the daughter 20.  it took a
    long time, but he slowly realized there was nothing there left for him.

    this summer he decided he needed a new hobby, and had always dreamed of
    finally learning to play golf.  afterall, it might help with his
    job.  but he didn’t want to do it alone, so i  agreed to
    share private lessons with him.  once a week all summer, we would
    go out to our lesson.  after a few weeks of me telling him, he
    might as well dump the bitch, he has nothing left… he began to refer
    to her as his “ex-wife.”  i thought it was a big moment, and was
    excited for him.  finally he could be free.  come fall, years
    after any any normal man would have abandoned such a hell hole, he
    finally moved out.  he got a nice apartment downtown, and a big
    tv.  he marvelled at how nice a 27″ tv was in comparison to all
    those years watching his 9″ black and white.  he started to meet
    women at the gym, i was really happy for him.  his life was
    starting over.  several women were crazy about him.  he felt
    like a teenager again.  he found new joy in shopping, in getting
    to eat what he wanted.  in being able to go out and go dancing and
    the local club, he hadn’t danced since high school.  certainly his
    wife never danced with him.

    he took a new job working sales for a third rate korean flexible
    circuit company but the pay was good.  they required him to have
    an office somewhere, being the american rep, so he moved in to my
    parents little building to take the extra office.  rick never
    really stopped talking, so sometimes it got on my parents nerves. 
    but still, he was my mom’s brother, and his drama was my parents drama
    too.  it was like the weekly sitcom, ‘what’s new in rick’s
    life’   the company was going under though, and it was hard
    to sell their stuff.  they refused to send samples, they screwed
    up orders, they never gave quotes.  that’s just not how business
    works.    even in my job, i’m getting quotes all the
    time.  that’s how business works.  but somehow, this korean
    company was surprised that rick wasn’t instantly landing them big
    deals.  somehow, he still made them money, but it wasn’t good
    enough for them. he told them big deals took time.  so at
    christmas, they fired him.  rick had always prided himself in
    being a provider, it was the one thing he could be proud of.  but
    then he had nothing.  most of our family though, thought it was a
    good thing… with a divorce and wut not… maybe it would bring his
    wife some humility to lose her golden goose.  but deep down rick
    was embarassed and devestated.  he didn’t tell any of the girls he
    was seeing…. kept it a secret.  he would come to “work” and sit
    around all day.  make a few phone calls.

    rick had always prided himself in being self sufficient, but when the
    money stopped he had no where to turn. so he turned to his parents (my
    grandparents) who have a lot of money and are supporting the entire
    rest of my mom’s brothers (that’s like 6 of htem or something) 
    earlier this week my grandparents had a conversation with him, telling
    him that he couldn’t just go on supporting him, he’d have to find a
    job.  he had offers of 80k plus commission, but he didn’t want to
    take it. he was too proud and wanted a straight up 130k.  my
    grandparents thought it was getting silly, and told him to
    settle.  so what if his bitch wife got a little less money. 
    his half would still be more than he had known for years.  they
    also told him they were worried about him drinking again.

    and so yesterday, it was a non-eventful day spinning around in his
    chair at his office… he did tell my mom that he felt bad taking my
    grandparents money, but my mother told him not to worry…their parents
    (my grandparents) had plenty of money.  but so then he parted ways
    with my parents at around 5pm, business as usual.  but when he
    left work, he didn’t go home to his apartment.  instead he headed
    a few miles south down by Angel’s stadium in anaheim and checked
    himself into an embassay suites.

    at 6pm he called the anaheim police department, ironically some police
    buddies of his were on duty there.  he told them that he would be
    killing himself and that they had better come and clean up the
    body.   as the anaheim police sped towards the hotel, they
    realized it was already too late.  calls were flooding in the from
    the hotel about a gunshot.  the cops burst into the room, but he
    was dead upon arival.  the police called my grandparents to inform
    them, and they didn’t believe it.  they prayed somehow he must
    have missed, this was after all old bumbling gullible rick who used to
    stutter as a child.  my parents drove my grandparents down to the
    anaheim coroner at which point they learned what had happened.

    my sister returned home at 9pm from work to find an empty house with no
    lights on.  then she recieved a call from my cousin who had just
    heard.  she then called me.  i was sitting in a bar 30 miles
    south, drunk with a buncha my coworkers. i was telling them the long
    sad story of how i almost died from my heart thing.  i had just
    gone outside for a cig and felt surprisingly dizzy, like the world was
    collapsing down upon me. it was a weird feeling and i remember feeling
    overwhelmed.  it was extra creepy because i felt just like the
    time i ran down to see my horse.  i looked my horse in the eyes,
    and he had the sadest look i have ever seen.  one that haunts me
    today.  it was the last look he gave as he fell down and
    died.  it was the look of death.  as i recall now, i felt
    this yesterday as 6:15pm.   there was something strange in the
    air, but i brushed it off.  i remember vividly this feeling last
    night, but not knowing why, i’d had a 2 beers, but it was something
    more…  i didn’t find out till much later though. in hindsight,
    it’s creepy. what was it that i felt?  but anyway at 9pm  i
    politely informed them that i must part ways and sped off. 
    perhaps it was the booze in me, or perhaps it was that feeling that
    maybe if i drove fast enough i would make it home to find him the
    hospital still alive, uttering some last words.  i swerved through
    lanes in the rain at 130mph crossing in and out of the carpool
    lane.  cars flashed their highbeams at me.  i knew it was
    retarded and that there was no point.  he was dead.  but i
    also knew i had Z-rated rain tires and that i could pull it off. 
    it’s pretty lame, but at a time like that, you just feel like you have
    to do something. but there was nothing i could do, so i sped home. i
    made it home in record time.  when i got home, my parents were
    already home.  i hugged my mother and we cried.  i cried for
    her though, not for him but i didn’t tell her that.  they had
    already heard the whole story from the coroner.  they found with
    him an envelop full of letters.  he had meticulously written out
    notes to everyone he could think of. he detailed who he owed money to,
    and who should be paid.  he must have been planning this for a
    while now to have so many letters.  some were typed, some where
    handwritten.  the rest though, i don’t know yet because they
    letters have to stay overnight with the police since its’ a crime
    scene.  afterward, my parents went back to the office to inspect
    his office.  he had left his cell phone and laptop neatly arranged
    on his desk.  he NEVER went anywhere without them. had they
    entered his office that evening, they woudl have known… but it
    woudln’t have mattered, they wouldn’t have known how to find him. 
    on his desk spread out was a giant tree of his previous company. 
    there was a box with his name in it with an arrow pointing up to head
    of all sales.  for him, it was the pinnacle of his career. 
    he was almost the number one salesman- at two, poised for one. 
    but he never made it, instead of moving him up, they let him go. death
    of a salesman.