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12th August 2003

1:45pm: This is scary.
LiveJournal Haiku!
Your name:parenthetical_h
Your haiku:hard that's what i think
maybe i should stop watching movies
my writing at times
Username:
Created by Grahame


Also I have fallen head over motherfucking heels in love, love, love. Duhn-duh-duhn. Love, love, love. Love is all you need.

Also I've got a psychic reading scheduled this week for Thursday morning. I know what you're going to say, but this guy comes highly recommended.

Also I recently (about ten days ago) had a minor car accident... and I'm about to turn twenty-six in nine days.

It's been one crazy summer.

6th June 2003

12:42pm: I would've much rather been Kitano-sensei
Because darkness, sadism and abusiveness are just so cool.

Boys #11 Sugimura Hiroki
Boys #11 Sugimura Hiroki

You are Sugimura Hiroki. You are one cool
dude. Tall, handsome, all the girls seem to
love you, but you only have feelings for that
one special girl that... 'stole' your heart.


Which Battle Royale boy are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Ah well. Love affects us all. It's made me all sapp-ified. It's just oozing all over. Sponge please!

11th May 2003

11:26am: Floating over awful for no good reason.
I really haven't written in this thing in a while, except for those silly and yet fascinating quiz-thingies. Today I suppose I just feel the need to do something different. The following may sound like whining, and I apologize if it does. However, please bear with me for a few moments. I'm sure things will get better.

WARNING!!! MILD DEPRESSIONISTIC WRITING AHEAD!!!

Have you ever felt really awful about yourself not for one big huge reason, but for several little reasons? So you feel awful, but you realize you don't have any big reason to feel awful and you still do. That's how I feel. The following list is itemized for organization's sake and in no particular order.

1. Today is Mother's Day. I wish I had taken Mom out to breakfast but I couldn't because I had to work.

2. The A's lost yesterday to the Yankees. Zito choked in the fifth inning. They won on Friday and I actually WENT to the game (and had a hot dog and garlic fries and stood in line for half the game... essentially I lived the true ballpark experience in it's entirety!) and although the home team won, I was quite dismayed at the sheer number of people wearing Yankees memorabilia. Bay Area residents continue to astound me. Not only do some of them think protesting is un-patriotic, but others support the Yankees instead of their own home team. Sigh.

3. My sister may be turning into a stereotypical female girly-girl college student. She's dating an incredibly stereotypically-straight guy (incl. gym regimen obsession, rudeness, whining helplessness, emotional unavailability, worst of all he's a closet-conservative). Not that I wish for her to date a young male who is not straight, but at least "considerate" would be nice.

4. I think three (or perhaps 2.5) of my closest friends are somewhat pissed with me and I myself am somewhat pissed with 1.5 of them. A mixture of pride and shame keep me from calling any of them, and I really wish I could. I hate being angry and I hate it when people are angry at me.

5. I'm dating this girl and I like her and at the same time, some things about her frustrate the hell out of me and I am completely confused as to what to do about it.

6. I went and saw Armando's collegiate directorial debut this week and it was pretty good. The lead actress reminded me of several girls on my high school Top Ten List of Girls I Never Dated But Always Wanted To and that opened a huge underlying trove of high-school sex nostalgia.

7. I just reviewed an interview I conducted with director Eric Byler two weeks ago, of which a majority of the subject discussed was the de-sexualization of the Asian male in American society. It was a fascinating interview, but ultimately disturbing as I am an Asian male with a bevy of porn at my disposal but...

Despite all this, there is an upside. Grandma is making dinner tonight at the Aunt's house and we have a new cousin to celebrate and hold and make little goo-goo noises at. My uncle is turning the big five-oh today. So there is reason to celebrate. And maybe Oakland will win today.

4th May 2003

10:03am: I usually hate these stupid quizzes...
but this one is just too interesting to pass up. I don't suppose anyone who knows me is too surprised by the results?

The Dante's Inferno Test has banished you to the Seventh Level of Hell!
Here is how you matched up against all the levels:
LevelScore
Purgatory (Repenting Believers)Low
Level 1 - Limbo (Virtuous Non-Believers)High
Level 2 (Lustful)High
Level 3 (Gluttonous)Moderate
Level 4 (Prodigal and Avaricious)Very Low
Level 5 (Wrathful and Gloomy)Low
Level 6 - The City of Dis (Heretics)Low
Level 7 (Violent)Very High
Level 8- the Malebolge (Fraudulent, Malicious, Panderers)High
Level 9 - Cocytus (Treacherous)Low

Take the Dante Inferno Hell Test

25th March 2003

2:31pm: I like blood
apparently

bathory
You are Elizabeth Bathory. (The bloodcountess)
Legend tells us that you, this very rich,
beautiful and high born woman tortured and
murdered some 650 young women and bathed in
their warm blood to keep yourself beautiful.
In some stories, it is said you have drank thier
blood as well. You were a sexual sadist on a
grand scale.
Ah vanity is your downfall. For shame!


Which Imfamous criminal are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

26th November 2002

4:42pm: Loser status: achieved.
Every day I am constantly reminded of how Chandler Bing-like I am. Of course, I speak of the character on television, played by Matthew Perry - and this is of course the Chandler Bing pre-Monica. Otherwise I'd be married right now to an incredibly skinny, sexually adventurous chef with a type-A personality.

I'm not sure if that would improve my situation actually, now that I think about it. I'd much rather be in a relationship with a petite, short-haired brunette with glasses, impeccable chess-skills, and who understands the difference between Paul Thomas Anderson and Rob Reiner. That would be the ideal. However, this girl doesn't exist, and I've accepted that. So for the past twelve months, I've tried to put aside my exacting preferences, and just tried to find someone who I could get along with - someone I could have a decent conversation with and who wouldn't want to vomit all over me upon seeing the condition of my abs. Here's the twelve-month list, just to prove to anyone who is reading how Chandler/Charlie Brown-esque my life truly is (the names have been deleted to protect the innocent):

Girl A: very attractive, given to sending mixed signals, in a word: FLAKY

Girl B: online inductee, Sacramento-native, recent stomach-stapling procedure, again mixed signals

Girl C: the other online inductee, physics major, vegan w/affectation towards Crispy Creme donuts, unlaundered beards included under both arms, enough said

Girl D: another online ad (under different pretenses), attractive, artistic, chess-player (!), socially active bordering on manic, too socially active to return calls

Girl E: the same online ad, scent of Pastrami in the air, more underarm animation, spoke without a single stop for forty-five minutes, thanks

Girl F: South African native, disturbing opinion of black folks, um... yeah

Girl G: wonderful, pretty, funny, eclectic, nice, but due to extenuating circumstances, I am not her particular cup of chai. UURRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!

Girl H: extremely attractive and pleasant person, after weeks of declined invitations it is discovered she has a (most likely) equally attractive/pleasant partner to go home to. This hurts my soul.

And there you have it - Chinese Chandler's year in retrospect. In many ways, my life is like a sitcom, I suppose. I can just imagine myself going to the local Ben and Jerry's for their promotional ice cream giveaway one afternoon: not only would they be out of ice cream, but also I'd most likely receive a parking ticket for street-sweeping, get stuck in traffic getting back to work, and also perhaps get rear-ended by a minivan driven by a heat-packin' soccer mom, accompanied by several young children all whose faces would be smeared with Ben and Jerry's Confection Obsession. This is why I don't eat ice cream or go in for promotional giveaways.

I know, I know... the secret to everything in life is attitude - that whole self-fulfilling prophecy-thing, right? If I will myself a young Asian woman with straight teeth and delicate features, wearing a mini-skirt, and who can actually look at me without rolling her eyes, she will come to me, right? All right... I'm trying. I'm trying. It's not working.

***

So, in conclusion what have we learned Charlie Brown, from this year of dating?

Lesson One: Remember to assume that all women who are more attractive than the accepted average are engaged to be married or in some similar relationship. Remembering this saves a great deal of emotional turmoil.

Lesson Two: Never tip your hand by revealing your ACTUAL feelings. In fact, a better interpretation is DON'T ACTUALLY have feelings. Project confidence at all times. Even when that blob of mustard is on your chin or if she declines an invitation due to Survivor, take it like a man. Don't think Woody Allen - instead think Colin Farrell.

Lesson Three: Online dating is akin to spoon-fed arsenic. It is not recommended by the FDA.

Lesson Four: Do not call on a regular basis. In fact, don't call at all for it may be interpreted incorrectly. If your abs are acceptable, she may drop an email.

Lesson Five: Be financially secure and/or drive a really nice Honda.

Lesson Six: Remember: abstinence, whether it be through personal choice or through forced circumstance, is always honorable, STD-free, and recommended by our current administration.

Lesson Seven: Never under any circumstances buy a woman flowers. Never. Never. Never. Never. It is never a good idea. Bad things happen. Flowers, those colorful meaningless little plants can wreak havoc.

Lesson Eight: No matter what happens, there's always North Beach.

I'm going gay. That's it. I've decided. I'm going to find a nice roly-poly filipino man and we're going to be very happy together. On weekends we can go shopping for greeting cards and antiques and have Thai every meal.

21st November 2002

8:28pm: Marketing genius.
Having to do with that other entry about YOUR BASKETBALL, I'd like to direct your attention to the following: anatomically-correct action figures of your favorite porn stars, each including unique plastic accessories and removable clothing.





I'm not kidding. Jenna Jameson and others are available at local collector shops, of course, not to be sold to those under the age of 18. See Lara Croft action figures, Danger Girl, Lady Death and others are okay. But when they are actual full-body scanned plastic representations of "real" women, accurate to a single millimeter including nipples and labial folds (I'm assuming), we have to protect our bourgeoning pre-teen adolescent young men, don't we?

Why is this an example of marketing genius? Essentially it is this: this concept caters to two extremely profitable markets: that is overweight, middle-aged men who live in their parents' basements and who collect action figures and who often peruse collectible/comic book shops, and those other overweight, middle-aged men who also live in their parents' basements and who are fans of pornography (or what I often refer to euphemistically as "alternate viewing material"). This one product can appeal to both, admittedly similar, markets!

Do you think overweight, middle-aged comic collectors/porn devotees possess no economic power in today's market? You'd be sorely mistaken there, friend! Those unemployment checks and/or Mom's allowances have to go somewhere! Either towards that extra large helping of Curly Fries that go with that Sourdough Jack with extra cheese at the two-in-the-morning drive-thru, or towards fully poseable, 7" porn stars with removable clothing... take your pick. Why not support healthier eating among the 18-45 year-old male demographic?

I say it again: marketing genius.
8:06pm: The following is a dramatic representation of actual events.
INT. COLLEGE STUDENT'S ROOM - DAY

(Our young college student puts his keys in his pocket and begins searching his room for his cellular phone. He is about to leave the house for the day. The following magazine lies atop a stack of newspapers on his right-most front speaker)



MAGAZINE (VOICE OF ALI LANDRY): Hey! Good morning, Hot Stuff!

COLLEGE STUDENT: Oh. Hello.

M: Hey listen, you weren't planning to leave me here all alone, were you?

CS: Oh, well... (finds the phone, places it in his bag) actually I was on my way to work. I'm already late, unfortunately.

M: Can I go with you at least? Pretty please?

CS: Uh... I don't think that's such a good idea. My boss isn't too keen on societal representations, such as yourself.

M: She doesn't need to know.

CS: Yeah, I know. But the temptation to flip through you would be too much to handle. I wouldn't want to get in trouble.

M: So why not now? Open me up, baby. Aren't you the least bit curious?

CS: I told you, I have to go to work!

M: C'mon baby. What's fifteen more minutes? There'll be another train. There's always another train.

CS: Uh...

M: Just look at these! These are the product of a millennia of natural selection and finally, genetic perfection! Not to mention the pilates sessions, yoga, spinning classes, make-up tricks and lighting techniques it takes to look this good. Are you really going to let all that effort go to waste?

CS: Um...

M: You know... it's not just me in here. There are countless women in here... all in their late-teens to mid-twenties... all in similar assorted lingerie products, posing seductively, lips parted, all the while advertising violent video games, manly alcohol and other toys, gadgets and gizmos that are sure to appeal to your young, sex-crazed heterosexual male tendencies. I promise.

CS: Um... I see. Is that so?

M: Uh huh. (opens slowly)

CS: Oh gosh. That's um, Jennifer Love Hewitt... wearing... oh my-

M: (quickly closes) Yeah. So, don't you wanna look? Sweetie?

CS: Well, I suppose a brief, few minutes wouldn't hurt. I mean, um, I'm late already, right?

M: That's right honey. It won't hurt anybody. Now just... ooooh... that's nice.

FADE TO BLACK


There you have it, folks. What can I say? Not much, apparently.

20th November 2002

3:21pm: Just a quick picture... to be related to an upcoming entry.


Is it just me, or does this image scream innuendo?

Poor Ron.

4th November 2002

6:32pm: L'Amour Video Shoppe Follies - The Synthetic Genitals Desk and YOUR BASKETBALL
Current VHS: Trampled Roommate
Current DVD: Rugrats In Paris: The Movie

Visited the local um... adult bookstore... last night to return some videos. I was there the night before last, looking desperately for that video with the woman in the high heels walking on top of the naked guy, stepping on his balls, etcetera... I thought that would go so well in the famous collection. Unfortunately, all I could rummage up was the 'Trampled Roommate' video, featuring a large woman walking on top of the scantily clad body of a smaller woman.

Actually, it was REALLY hard to watch. So I saw maybe two minutes of it and switched to Rugrats in Paris. I realize that I don't like watching folks in pain, if it's like really REAL pain. I mean other weird stuff I can tolerate, the list of which I will not go into now. (if you really want the "alternate viewing" subject list, I'm sure I can fashion one for you) But when it seems as if people are ACTUALLY getting hurt??? No thanks.

The Rugrats movie was quite pleasant, including two very wonderfully sad songs performed by Cindy Lauper and Sinead O'Connor. I was quite surprised. I'll have to get the soundtrack somewhere.

I'd just like to pause for a moment and reflect on just how much a dual-deck VCR can change one's life. A moment of silent introspection, please.

Anyway, THE REASON I AM POSTING: so I'm exploring the local um... adult bookstore..., not looking to rent anything for the evening (as I had an essay and a midterm to study for, the results of which I am too depressed to go into now) and I found myself at, what I refer to as, the "Synethetic Genitals Desk." Well, I call it the "Synthetic Genitals Desk," but it really is a misnomer. I mean it wasn't labeled or anything and there were more synthetic items there than just genitals - of special note was the blow-up mermaid doll ("with three openings of love" eeeeeeeee!!!!) and the translucent "Hot-Water Mouth" (which I'm sure felt great, but being see-through, I'm not sure I'd stick MY willy into it).

However, ONTO THE SYNTHETIC GENITALS - I noticed there were several boxes (ahem) with adult film stars' names on them. They were in fact synthetic genitals that were molded after these stars' actual real-life genitals. Now think about this: you are an adult film star. You're having breakfast one morning, some toast, couple eggs, a couple Advils, whatever. You get a call: it's a guy named Doc Johnson and he wants to make a rubber-cast mold from your um... your... well, your reproductive organs. He says that folks will actually pay $59.95 (not including shipping or handling!), for a rubber mold of your nether-regions. Can you imagine the power that entails? When badly-shaven, middle-aged men with thick glasses and trenchcoats are lining up to plunk down their hard-earned allowance to buy copies of your genitals??? KA-CHING!

I mean, sure, any guy can go into a sex shop and buy an artificial vagina (which most often, for some reason, resemble flesh-colored basketballs). Imagine if you will, that in any given minute of a single day, there could be millions of young men around the world, fucking those basketballs... just pounding away. Now imagine, just for a moment... why would you let that poor young soul just fuck any old basketball? Why can't it be YOUR BASKETBALL!!!! Those young men are pounding out their $59.95 worth, of which you too can get a percentage! ISN'T THAT JUST AMAZING????????

Honestly, if there were a market for synthetic copies of your genitals, and sex toy-makers were offering you x thousands of dollars and a percentage for a mold, wouldn't you just jump at the chance? Somedays I wish I was a porn star.

Back to homework.

3rd November 2002

3:36pm: Tim: A Critique, a.k.a. Tim Rocks... So Hard
That's what I think I'll name the unauthorized biography or Broadway musical that someday I'll write about Tim (or 'T' or 'Double-Down', as we like to call him).

This previous Tuesday evening: had coffee with Tim, an old friend from the Chabot/Blockbuster Video/Go-Home-Happy-inane-merchandising days. I had forgotten how much Tim and I get along. The dude's amazing. Not that my other friends aren't amazing. In fact, just for courtesy I have listed those primaries with their immediate adjectives:

Moogboy: Special (like those women who can squirt when they come, but even more special than that)

Dali-drama: Fiesty

Paul: Enigmatic (as in some days he's right on, others I want to throttle him... in a bad way, I mean)

Rachelle: H.B.

Patricia: Diva

Belle: Force-of-Nature

Mary Ellen: Mom

Miggy: Chief

Spanish Princess/BasilEggplant: Alluring (in that "beautiful secrets" kind of way)

But Tim... Tim is amazing. Talking with him after not talking to him for a while reminded me of the difference between film students... which does make me a bit sad in a way. Here's the deal with film students at SFSU, there are three types:

Type-A: those who worship Quentin Tarantino, Wes Anderson, and ten other guys who I guarantee you've never heard of, who wear safety pins as accessories, who drape themselves in obscurity (whether it be musical, educational, or even latex). These people are intellectuals, at whose conventions, fascist black boots and Region 2, bootlegged letterbox copies of Tetsuo: The Iron Man are handed out along with the name tags.

Type-B: those who entered film school because they were tired of watching Star Wars over, and over, and over, and over, and over again and who instead wanted to dedicate their lives to the creation of another soul-consuming, crappily-written, multi-billion dollar movie franchise. These are film students who really like Steven Spielberg, Adam Sandler, and/or James Cameron because, dude, his flicks are like really cool and have, like, exploding tanker trucks and terrorists getting fucked-up and shit like that. Those fucking flicks ROCK, dude! Armageddon was the shit! Michael Bay is my GOD!!!

Type-C: those who are a balance of the two... who are neither moody, reclusive intellectuals or idiot/Hollywood-bound numbnuts. These type-C people are intellectual in their own respect and who also appreciate the 1.5% of Hollywood films that actually are of some quality, as well as the lesser-seen stuff.

That's what I'm talking about. Tim and I are of the same breed. Where does our species fluorish? Damned if I know. If you find some hidden, secret village somewhere, would you let me know? You would know it by the golden shrine in the town square, dedicated to the American Cinema of 1999.

If I say to him, "Gee, that play you appeared in four semesters ago: that was like the 'Mallrats' of the Ryan Carbrey (the playwright) canon", he would go, "Yes!" and understand EXACTLY what I am talking about. Tim and I... we speak in shorthand. It's as if both of us have hardwired neural connections to the printing presses of Daily Variety and the IMDB.

Tim, technically, is not a film student. Is it not IRONIC? The only guy who, if I were to say, "Swingers (1996) - Miramax Collector's Series" would respond with "Amazon.com, $14.99 incl. action commentary by writers/actors John Favreau and Vince Vaughn" IS NOT TECHNICALLY A FELLOW SFSU FILM GUY???? The irony pains me. It pains me, I tell you.
3:30pm: Sunday, Bloody Sunday
Actually, more like "Sunday, Nostalgic Sunday." Here we are: the last Sunday at Prudential in Piedmont. Of all the silly things about that Nicole Kidman movie 'Birthday Girl' (including the "dating" circumstances with which I saw it at the Metreon), the most fitting thing I remember about it was this quotation: "What will happen?" Indeed.

Some background info: those who know me will recall that for the last two-and-a-half years, I've spend my weekends here... in this office... making copies, making coffee, essentially assisting these frazzled humans known as 'Agents' (of Destruction? of Destiny? of Escrow Delivery?) with their real estate rigamarole. Two-and-a-half years of weekends... no wonder I'm a little nuts. Now, it's just a couple of hours before I leave for good and... well, let's just say it's enough to make one a bit nostalgic.

Goodbye laundered dress shirts. Goodbye transfers to voicemail. Goodbye gracious tub o' pretzels and salty goodness. Hello sleeping in on Saturday mornings. Hello local independent film internships. Hello homework. Hello weekend day trips w/coeds (well, in theory).

2nd November 2002

3:37pm: Blue Light Special
Lastly (for today), I'd like to make a very important announcement to all my friends, if they'd like to indulge me for a moment...

Imagine the world as if it were a gargantuan K-Mart warehouse shopping extravaganza... you're there surveying the somewhat limited and yet inexpensive DVD section, and this announcement comes over the P.A. system:

"Attention, K-Mart Shoppers! Would any/all petite, cynical, bespectacled women aged 18-30 with short, dark hair, and with any intermediate-to-advanced chess-playing skills please contact the Customer Services Counter. A gentleman is waiting for you there. Thank you. That is all."

More tomorrow.
3:36pm: Something else I forgot re: TIMIDKITTEN
For all of my friends, I would like to direct your attention to TIMIDKITTEN's livejournal. Ms. Kitten has single-handedly dedicated herself to the spreading (heh) of hentai-awareness to the world. Her efforts should be applauded by everyone who is tastefully into what I euphemistically call "alternate-viewing" material (Cory included). AND she has some extremely cool icons (that I find so cool, I have to minimize the window when my boss is in the office), some extremely cool picture links (oh geez) hidden in the annals of her journal, and some pretty nifty fiction on which she works. So everyone, say Hi.
2:47pm: I haven't written in a while. No, it's true. Really.
Mmmmmm. Frosted pumpkin scone is definitely tastier than frosted lemon. Sorry Miggy. It was a fucked-up week.

It seems that a lot of people are putting up Halloween activity reports. Hence:

Thursday: Halloween. We (Rachelle, Belle and I) did... go to this Italian restaurant in North Beach for some extremely good (and somewhat overpriced) mushroom/parmesan sauce. We did not... make a stop at Centerfolds [=(] to see Lexi. We did... drive slowly through the Castro and check out the passer-bys' creative and weird costumes. Making guest-appearances were: Fred Flintstone, a Christmas Tree, a rather manly-looking Bob the Builder, various Teletubbies, a cheerleading sorority, plenty of Catholic schoolgirls (oh geez), and several Roman soldiers from the Crucifixion. Cool stuff.

We also did... stay the night in an incredibly Orwellian/1984-like Days Inn, where Rachelle had several exclamations throughout the night... IN HER SLEEP, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! (I know what you sickos were thinking) Before the sleeping however, topics discussed included the comparison of feet, boyfriends, girlfriends, driving while under the influence, and KOIT Tower, referred to under a psuedonym which I will not mention here.

Rachelle sleeping is a rather interesting phenomenon, I've gotta tell you. She actually speaks in her sleep. And not in a foreign-sleepy kind of language either. She speaks quite clearly and succinctly, as if you were both having a decent conversation... the only difference being that one of you is unconscious. At 3:00am I was awakened by the loud declaration, "Second!" by Rachelle. I can't imagine what she was dreaming about. Perhaps of herself as some Civil War general, ordering the troops' second round of gunfire. I don't know.

Anyway, THE IMPORTANT TOPIC FOR WHICH I AM WRITING THIS IN THE FIRST PLACE is this: last night's 18 Mighty Mountain Warriors show on campus was pretty good. By the way, for those of you NOT IN THE KNOW, the 18 Mighty Mountain Warriors is an all-Asian stage-comedy troupe, much in the same vein as SNL or In Living Color. The skits weren't new, but we (Mom and I) hadn't seen them for a whle. The funniest line was certainly this: "Y'know, for a while I always wanted to be a WHITE guy... just so I could DATE ASIAN WOMEN." I think the loudest member of the audience at that point was myself.

Technically, I have never officially dated an Asian woman. It's not that I'm not interested in Asian women (Lord, Heavens, by all that is Holy, that is not the case). However, I've simply found that WHITE* women tend to dig the whole goofy-neurotic/animated-Chandler/muscular-Brando-Newman-esque type thing more than Asian women. Hell, I can't get any woman in my Asian-American History class to look at me without rolling her eyes. What do I need to do? To procure an Asian female datee**, should I: A) increase my present muscle mass (and proportionately decrease my tank top size) by 150%, B) purchase and drive a souped-up Honda w/an aggressive sub-woofer and call it a "sports car", C) hang out in seedy arcades and/or pool halls at 2:30am on any given Tuesday evening and begin using phrases/terms like "chillin'" and "kickin' it", D) begin sparring with heavy Korean guys, E) join an on-campus anime club and start going to pearl-tea socials, or F) all of the above? Probably F.

* The term WHITE is not meant as an offensive term. In fact, I haven't JUST dated WHITE women. Some were even VEGAN.

** Technically, I did kind-of have a date who was *gasp* Asian before this writing took place. It was just very, very recently and I had to cancel the date, due to a promise I made my Mother about the 18 Mighty Mountain Warriors show. Hey! I AM a REAL ASIAN BOY!!! If Pinocchio had been Chinese, this would be a paraphrase.

27th October 2002

3:43pm: People are people, so why should it be?
I think maybe I should stop watching movies. My writing, at times, seems like a never-ending river of movie-cliche sewage. I'm sitting here at Starbuck's, munching on a lemon-frosted scone. Oh, the guilt... the pleasure... I'm going to Hell. And I don't even like heavy metal. Did you know that if you play 'Another One Bites the Dust' backwards, Mr. Mercury can be very clearly heard saying "Start smoking marijuana"? Apparently, it's true. Thank God for religious zealot ex-roadie documentarians. Of course, for those of you misinformed, last night the screening of Hell's Bells at Cory's was a hoot; an "occultistic", devil-induced hoot, but a hoot nonetheless. Thanks Cory, you crazy, movie-lovin' horned dude. Note, that's "horn-ed" not "horny" - there is a distinction. Not that Cory's not actually "horny", however it's really not my place to make that call.

Y'know when I was an assistant manager at Blockbuster Video, one of the clerks asked me (the badly-shaven/Renaissance Faire/Goth-type one) what religion I belonged to and I told him I was a "___-ist". He nods slowly and says to me, "Yeah, I've heard of that!" And then the other clerk says to me, "Wait, isn't that your last name?" It was funny.

Yesterday, on a whim I opened the Valley Times as I was munching on Raisin Bran and on the wedding page (the Valley Times has a wedding page???) staring right up at me is the photo of a girl I knew in high school! She just got married and she's currently the Assistant District Attorney in St. Louis or something. I was astounded. I used to have a slight crush on this girl. I don't know... Perhaps I'm starting to think that me, sitting here alone at Starbuck's munching a lemon-frosted scone at 3:00pm on a Sunday afternoon may be more telling about my future than I care to think about. My shadow on the floor looks so... singular, as I sip my coffee watching the pedestrians outside. I should storyboard this moment. See what I was talking about? Movie-cliches!!!!!!!!! AAAAAGGGGGHHH!

There's a girl with long hair studying by herself in the corner. Maybe I should go over there and flirt a little bit. Actually, Belle says I flirt too much. She's probably right. I wish my flirtation to action ratio were a bit improved. Actually, I wish it was an actual ratio. I don't think a gazillion to zero is a ratio... it's probably an imaginary number or some-such nonsense.

Life is full of little moments, y'know?

Tonight: dinner at Gramma's. Neat. I love hanging out with the family.

26th October 2002

12:34pm: Guilty pleasures = am I a sell-out?!?!?!?
Something else:

I am such a franchise-whore. (btw, that's a new (h)-ism) I mean, I took my Dad out to see 'The Ring' last night at the UA on Shattuck, and when the 'Two Towers' trailer came on, I found myself actually leaning forward in my seat. I cannot wait for the release of James Bond 20 - Die Another Day, H.P. and the Chamber of Secrets, the aforementioned Two Towers and the new Star Trek film. I am such a pop-culture slave, I know. It is a GUILTY PLEASURE.

I think Pierce Brosnan is the ultimate James Bond, I really do. Many disagree with me, but that's okay. I only hope that the new one tries to be as good as 'Goldeneye', a true and successful re-invention of the franchise, and still my favorite of the last three. Die Another Day, however, has the best title song I've heard in the entire franchise. Sorry Carly Simon. Kudos to the producers.

I once tried to watch all the James Bond films in order, in a very short time period. However, after the first four in three days, it was becoming a chore... like taking nasty-tasting medicine when you're sick. Kind of like the time I tried to watch all the Halloween movies in a single week. After a while they all start to blur together into one big movie. Ugh. A process I don't recommend.

On a similar topic, last week I was at BestBuy, with the firm intention of actually purchasing a new CD. Those who know me know that this is a rare occurrence. Generally, if it is not used, a movie soundtrack, or classical jazz, I don't buy it. However, the new single by Avril Levene (is that how you spell it?) entitled 'Skater Boy', I really enjoy. Another GUILTY PLEASURE: sweet, poppy rock music. You know what I'm talking about: the 'Angus' soundtrack, the 'Titan A.E.' soundtrack, Blink 182, Blur, Alien Ant Farm... all those pop-guitar-riffs-for-teenagers songs that pretend to be hardcore, but they're actually prepackaged studio fluff. Those ones. Anyway, so I'm reading the back of the album and I realize, the title of the song isn't actually 'Skater Boy', it's 'Sk8er Boi'. I put it down immediately. There was no way I would purchase an album by a musician with such low regard for the English language and it's proper consonant principles.

But then, on the way to work this morning the song came on again. Currently... fighting... impulse... to be true sell-out and purchase work by artist with contemporary spelling preferences. Must... hold... on...

GAH! Okay, I'm okay now. Just incase you didn't know, other (h) guilty pleasures include: FHM and other related non-nudity but oh-so wonderful cheesy alpha-male oriented magazines, theater candy esp. sour patch kids and red vines, gooey cheese pizza, pretzels (salty goodness), midnight baseball on KNBR, movies with breasts, jeans from Target, tv shows my mom watches (in which sometimes I get engrossed in as well), what else... I can't think of anything else right now.

Some may be wondering why PORN isn't on that list. I'll tell you why FHM is and PORN is not. PORN does not pretend to be anything but smutty. It is what it is and it does not lie about that. FHM on the other hand is essentially PORN which you can buy on the front shelf at Borders. Because it does not technically feature nudity, it can be bought at supermarkets, although its purpose is not far removed from that of PORN. True PORN should be gotten in dirty basements, accessible only through dark alleys, in crusty cardboard boxes being rifled through by badly-shaven men with thick glasses and wearing trenchcoats. That's where TRUE PORN is found. FHM is PORN, but it's pretending to be upper class, a.k.a. okay for suburban husband to have lying around the house despite wife's discomfort, a.k.a. a product of the WAL-MART/TARGET consumerism/mini-van-existence establishment, a.k.a. guilty pleasure of mine, justified by the part of my brain that has no morals and only hungers for pictures of skinny female celebrities in skimpy underwear.

I need a confessional.
11:13am: Some Current Notes: Spike Jonze and other screenplays
Contrary to popular opinion, I really wasn't as depressed as I sounded during my last entry. I had a realization later on that changed my outlook. So now I can more readily accept some of those things that I could not before. And no, I haven't embraced religion. Well... religion of a sort I suppose. One day, perhaps I'll go into it. But I hate to bore and disappoint all you superfanboys (and girls). Onto current events:

1) I have officially given my two-week notice of departure at the office I work at on the weekends. This may come as a shock to many of you. I guess two-and-a-half years of not having weekends will make you kind of nuts. Well, now we finally know what it was.

2) I have accepted a position (wow, that was quick) as Location Scout/Intern for a new independent and local production, a film entitled 'Swing', due to be shot in the next couple of months. I haven't read the script yet, and it's probably best if I don't, to be quite honest. Film school is quite different from the actual, real film world. I am slowly learning that.

3) My boss has adopted a new strategy in trying to get me a full-time position at SFSU Psych. He's going to propose an entire department restructure, rather than just a position restructure. This would mean I would have extra responsibilities but also extra hours... which means I wouldn't have to quit my weekday job to afford to move out! Happy happy, joy joy!

4) Two nights ago, Shamika and I screened the new Spike Jonze/Charlie Kaufman film 'Adaptation' which is coming out in December (which means that the studio is submitting it as an Oscar contender). AND WE ACTUALLY MET AND SPOKE TO THE JONZE AND THE KAUFMAN who were there and answering questions about the film.

Highlight: I got my Special Edition 'Being John Malkovich' DVD signed by both of them. Low-light: None of the questions asked by the mainly-UC undergrad/hippie audience were remotely intelligent. The sad fact of it was that all the questions were linguistically-disguised to make the rest of us think they were intelligent. I hate Berkeley.

Will 'Adaptation' actually win any Oscars? That depends if it is a critical success or not, I suppose. Kaufman's post-Malkovich work 'Human Nature' didn't even register a blip. I bet even those of you who "absolutely loved Being John Malkovich" didn't know about 'Human Nature', right? It starred Tim Robbins, Patricia Arquette, and Rhys Ifans (the guy from Notting Hill) and was directed by Michel Gondry (who you music video people should know about). I would've tried to pass an encouraging word to Mr. Kaufman about his last film script, but I didn't want to piss him off by reminding him of previous box-office failures. He seemed to be a little pissed I tried to spell my name for him ("I know how to spell Jonathan!"), so there you are.

Also it was cool to meet Spike. I asked him about that film-group/company that had supposedly been started by himself, David Fincher, Steven Soderbergh and Alexander Payne that I heard about last year in Daily Variety, and he said it wasn't going to happen. The world mourns.

All in all, a terrific night; and I've got a signed DVD to prove it. If you find yourself at my house, ask to see my nifty doo-dads collection and I will show it to you.

5) I'm thinking of restarting my "The Girl in the Sunflower Hat" script. I know, I know. I am always restarting and abandoning old scripts. But after many years of declaring both at the same time, "This screenplay is shit!" and "But there's something special there! It will not die!" I've finally realized the power of the concept: this guy is in love with a ghost.

For those of you who were lucky enough not to know me in 1998, the screenplay was my first attempt at screenwriting and it was about a young English teacher who meets the love of his life and she leaves him one day mysteriously. She leaves a note, never explaining why she's left. Years later, his life is in ruins and he sets out to figure out why she left. All the while he's searching for the truth, it becomes clear to us (the audience) that it is debatable that she even ever existed. I realize, there is the power of this piece. When your first real love leaves you (and I mean "leaves" as in, never to be seen again) that person ceases to be a person and becomes a memory on a pedastal... an idealized experience that all others will be compared to. In essence, a ghost: someone who was never really there (or whom you never truly saw). What if that person REALLY was imaginary? That's kind of trippy, isn't it? My dad thinks it's a bit too heady to be properly accepted. I don't know. Any thoughts?
Current Mood: accomplished

20th October 2002

11:36am: I'm sick... and I'm at work.
I've come down with my mom's flu. I'm running a slight fever and I really need to go home. I think I will leave work early today and go to bed. I'd rather very much like to see a matinee of 'Auto Focus', the new Paul Schrader film about Bob Crane, but I really ought to go home.

I once started this screenplay called 'The King's Sorrow' in which this monarch, after his wife is assassinated, has his sorrow physically removed from his body (represented by a small, glowing object) which is essentially his spiritual heart or soul or whatever - the thing inside him which allows him to feel. He becomes this automoton-like creature, able to make decisions and lead his country, but who is ultimately a soulless human being. Sometimes... sometimes I wish it were possible.

I tell you, there are times when I hate being that wears-his-heart-on-his-sleeve-nice-guy. Nice guys suck. I've said this before and I'll say it again: I should really try hard at being an asshole... you know, one of those straight alpha-males who visits sports bars, drives an American car, who always has a twelve-pack in the fridge: an insensitive, conscience-ignorant male who does not ALLOW himself to be hurt. I think that'll be my new year's resolution.

Of course, all this may be a result of me being feverish, at work, with a two-week late, unwritten eight-page essay due tomorrow on Chinese cinema, and a 400-word movie review which is only half-written due in a couple of hours. I need a hug.

19th October 2002

4:42pm: I just love these Q/A things Cory has.
So allow me to briefly be a Moogboy poser.

x. name = Jo(h)nathan
x. birthday = 08/21/77
x. piercings = none
x. tattoos = none
x. height = 5'8" or 5'10", depending on who is measuring
x. shoe size = 9 1/2 to 10
x. hair color = black/grey
x. length = think military, either Chinese or American
x. siblings = little sister Rebecca is "da bomb"
x. pets = racoons in the backyard

last...
x. movie you rented = Roger & Me and The Big One
x. movie you bought = Blood: The Last Vampire
x. song you listened to = Coldplay/Spies
x. song that was stuck in your head = sk8r boi (terrible, huh?)
x. song you've downloaded = I am not that technically able.
x. cd you bought = Princess Mononoke - Symphonic Score
x. cd you listened to = same as above
x. person you've called = Rachelle (LL, HB, etc.)
x. person that's called you = Mama Belle
x. tv show you've watched = tv is bad for you
x. person you were thinking of = Moogboy

do...
x. you have a bf or gf = multiples of both
x. you have a crush on someone = don't get me started
x. you wish you could live somewhere else = studio on Piedmont Avenue or Shanghai
x. you think about suicide = not anymore, now I just think about baseball
x. you believe in online dating = like I believe in Santa Claus? online dating is inadvisable.
x. others find you attractive = people find my glasses attractive
x. you want more piercings = the ear one day, maybe the labia. Oh! You mean on myself!
x. you want more tattoos = Powerpuff Girl Buttercup on the left shoulder... maybe a Star Trek communicator but I'm told its a bad idea
x. you drink = seldom
x. you do drugs = tried them, but to no avail
x. you like cleaning = dishes
x. you like roller coasters = sure
x. you write in cursive or print = print
x. you carry a donor card = si

for or against
x. long distance relationships = completely against (unless it involves Maura Tierney)
x. using someone = it depends on if you like or hate them
x. suicide = y'know, there are always alternatives
x. killing people = only certain filmmakers and/or members of our current administration
x. teenage smoking = jogging is better
x. doing drugs = depends on your current economic situation... overspending is a no-no
x. premarital sex = silly question
x. driving drunk = inadvisable... unless you're Paul and you don't have a sleeping bag or toothbrush handy and you've had 1/2 a glass of wine four hours earlier. Then you have to drive drunk, don'tcha Paul!!!
x. gay/lesbian relationships = sure
x. soap operas = try Craigslist sometime

favorite...
x. food = cheerios w/soy milk
x. song = 'Missing You' by that eighties band... or Don Henley's 'Heart of the Matter'
x. thing to do = listening to a really insightful dvd commentary track
x. thing to talk about = David Fincher movies
x. sports = OAKLAND A'S BABY!!! (I don't mean to sound like such a straight alpha-male guy; I'm really not that way)
x. drinks = coffee w/cream, bottled water
x. clothes = anything black and that I can fit
x. movies = good anime, Asian cinema, David Fincher
x. bands = Sting, Blossom Dearie, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Vince Guaraldi (!!!)
x. holiday = Rebecca's birthday, Christmas
x. cars = 1985 Mazda Rx-7 or any post-1990 Miata

have you...
x. ever cried over a girl or boy = yes
x. ever lied to someone = yes
x. ever been in a fist fight = not really
x. ever been arrested = not this year

what...
x. shampoo do you use = Head & Shoulders
x. perfume do you use = Montage (I looove the name)
x. shoes do you wear = black
x. are you scared of = tomatoes, our current administration aka. Big Brother, being a single, night-manager at Albertson's when I'm fifty-three, suicidal Berkeley residents/pedestrians jumping in front of moving vehicles, infants innocently crawling under tires, being unhappy for the rest of my life

number...
x. of times I have had my heart broken? again, don't get me started
x. of hearts I have broken? three... I think
x. of boys I have kissed? depends what age... little or teenage?
x. of girls I have kissed? fewer than I would've liked
x. of continents I have lived in? one
x. of drugs taken illegally? 0.7
x. of people I would classify as true, could trust with my life type friends? 3.5
x. of people I consider my enemies? only James Cameron and certain members of our current administration
x. of people from high school that I stayed in contact with? only my hairstylist, thank the lord almighty
x. of cd's that I own? too many that I don't listen to
x. of scars on my body? what a personal question
x. of things in my past that I regret? every person I've ever hurt in my past, I regret that... also my AP Calculus grade senior year

18th October 2002

11:30pm: Responsible Americans carry guns (at least in Michigan).
A bit of a lonely day off today: out of bed by noon, called a couple of friends to see if they'd like to accompany me to Michael Moore's new documentary 'Bowling for Columbine.' Alas, no one picked up. Sigh.

However, the trip to Piedmont Avenue alone was not a wasted effort. I actually made it in time for the film, despite being detoured from the Harrison exit due to irresponsible drivers on my right. I'd never seen a Michael Moore film, but after seeing 'Columbine', I intend to see his other stuff.

Mary Ellen would be so jealous that I went to see it. Ah well, the cost of pseudo-marriage and motherhood, I suppose. The most hurtful and devastating factor in having kids isn't the financial responsibility or the time commitment... its that suddenly you are unable to make it to the theater whenever you want. If I were ever to have kids (which would, of course, necessitate the existence of A GIRL, therefore I'm living in Fantasyland anyway) the one deterrence would be the loss of my movie theater freedom, which I enjoy every chance I get. I wonder how Paul Thomas Anderson will cope with that. I'll have to give him a call.

So anyway, 'Columbine' was incredible. The footage of the second plane crashing into the WTC is still very upsetting. Moore knows how to recognize comedy when he sees it, which mid-west gun nuts can provide a great deal of. My favorite quote comes from James Nichols, acquitted brother of one of the Oklahoma City Bombers and soybean farmer: "I use the pen... because the pen is mightier than the sword. But you've got to keep the sword for when the pen fails." What can I say? I think Chris Rock said it best when he said: "Crazy crackers with guns? It's time I get my black ass out of here!" Go and see it. Maybe I'll post my review in here when its finished.

Something else: because of my whacked-out work schedule, most often... in fact, ALWAYS from semester to semester, my days off fall on weekdays. And because of that I find myself always wondering: why the hell are there so many yahoo drivers on the road in the middle of the afternoon on any given weekday? Who is commuting at 1:45pm on a Friday? Somehow I doubt that all of them are slacker college students or loser part-time state employees. Aren't all the retirees and home-makers watching Sally Jessy or Montel in the afternoons? Doesn't anyone work a full week anymore? Apparently not.

After the film, I made my way to Starbucks in the shopping center at Pleasant Valley and Broadway. Waiting for me in the parking lot was the entire population of Oakland, horns at the ready. Apparently, for Bay Area commuters 4pm on Fridays is go-to-Safeway-and-hunt-for-a-parking-space time. I wish someone had informed me.

Tomorrow: work... followed by silent gnashing of teeth. Oh, and I found a Craigslist ad from a guy selling his Pioneer-released set of Lain: Serial Experiments DVDs for $40. Sweet! Dude! Sweet!
Current Mood: content

17th October 2002

7:17pm: My first entry - aren't you excited?
Here we are - it is the thirteenth anniversary of Loma Prieta and I'm staring a live journal. Isn't life funny that way? Its been a while since I've written any type of journal so it may be a bit before I get the hang of this... kind of like the first and second seasons of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Man, those were such crap. But it got better as the series progressed. Hopefully, this journal will follow suit (without so many broadcast hours of badly-written tripe, hopefully).

I am a bit nervous, honestly. Anybody can read this stuff! There's going to have to be a fine line drawn between what and about whom I can and can't write. Editing my own behavior/writing? Since when has THAT happened? Feelings of trepidation rising.

One thing that won't be in this journal are those survey-thingies... which can be kind of silly and fluffy, let's face it. If you really want to know which 'Lord of the Rings' character I most resemble or which Strawberry Shortcake figure I most associate myself with or which Star Trek: Voyager character my friends think I most resemble, I will be happy to tell you.

Another thing that won't be in this journal are any impressive colorful graphics or any neato/nify links to other locations on what we call this WIRED WORLD, as I am a doody-brain in regards to all things computer. I can type and play Solitaire and that is about the extent of my knowledge. If you are looking for a techie, you want the next guy. Perhaps a link to my profile on match.com, but you'll just have to wait. Besides, its pretty outdated.

I should probably be posting something more important, life-affirming, or controversial, but that's about it for now. There's an exercise bicycle with someone else's dried sweat on it just waiting for me to come and mount. Isn't it just too sexy?

P.S. Another thing: I will try and keep the comma count down, for posterity's sake.
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