Mr. Christopher's Innocuous Introspections

Cold & Lonely where I used to play

2011-01-19T10:16:00.003-06:00

Things have been strange of late. I have been living with my Brother in a house that he inherited from my Grandmother. The strange thing is that my Grandmother is 90 years old and still very much a live. The house is paid off and my Brother has gotten himself quite the deal. He did invest almost $10,000 in fixing up the house and it does look like a completely different house, but it's strange in the sense that I now lay my head in a house, nay a room where I once slept after a long day of playing, riding my bike, playing basketball, football until dinner was ready. I use to expel so much energy on these streets as a kid. Somewhere along the line, I just got fat. So now, at 32, I'm trying to do something about it, ...again.

I wake up everyday at about 9am and go for a mild run through the neighborhood. Nothing too intense as I'm only starting out again. Then I delve into the nutritional food I've purchased for a few small meals a day. After my first meal, it's over to my late Mother's house, the house I was born in, to continue emptying it out and getting it ready to put up for sale. This is a process that has lasted quite some time now. In my own opinion, it has lasted too long. I must admit that I never in a million years thought it would take this long, but now several dates for my moving to New York have come and gone as a result. As I type, my own girlfriend is living in Brooklyn and I am engaged in a long distance relationship. I drove her up two weeks ago in a uhaul and then flew back the following Thursday.

I can't say it's easy living here in San Antonio. It's a city I tried so hard to leave 15 years ago and even harder to not have to come back to, but alas, when the matriarch of a family passes, it is difficult not to have to come home to reconcile everything. So I'm making the most of it. Trying not to spend any money while maximizing my potential for the future by looking for jobs, making money and setting up a place to live in NYC, which I'm hoping will come at just the right time. Until then, all I can do is be patient. It's just the thought of wasting time at my age kills me.

Life gets in the way

2010-11-21T01:08:00.003-06:00

Being back in San Antonio has stirred some interesting feelings these last few months. I've realized that I've spent more time in this house at 13407 Monte Leon in the last six months than I have in the last six years. It's unfortunate that it's happened now that my Mother has passed away and as time passes there is a feeling sinking in that maybe I made the wrong decision. That I should have been here more.

It has been a long time since I last scribed into this worn down excuse for a blog. To be honest, it's been a long time since I've written anything that could pass for a journal entry, but my heart and mind can't allow this "break" to continue. When I first started this blog, it was in part for a way to people I know, love, care about, called friends, to keep tabs on me. It was also an outlet for me to regurgitate the happenings in my life into a vessel that would last "forever." I could post my photos and do what most people do with blogs, - vent & archive.

My life seems to have reached a turning point and it is something that has come with difficulty. I'm not one that subscribes readily to faith, or even coincidence for that matter. I tend to think that whatever happens in our life, happens. Simple. Easy to digest, (the action, not the consequences necessarily). I am one with the ways of the Universe and am usually fine with accepting the knots on my rope of life. I find it futile and pointless to extend any kind of stress, anger, or concern with matters that have passed before me on the timeline, but in doing so, I may have extended my ever-so-great philosophy into the way I think about the future.

Some people refer to it as "living in the moment." Day-to-Day. One spends less time thinking about the future, worrying about the past and just exists and during a time when my world was getting rocked & turned upside down, it seemed like the most logical decision. That's not to say I have not accomplished anything in the last six months. I have worked on several film/video productions for the duration in various stimulating positions. Some VERY rewarding, some a tad boring, but all experiences I can say I have learned a thing or two from. I have met and am in a relationship with a girl I never in a million years thought I would be in a relationship with, which in turn, has made every moment we spend together nothing shy of interesting.

Now I'm faced with new decisions. Geographical relocation. Serious fiscal responsibility. A new and beautiful young lady I currently call my partner and the search for a new direction career-wise. It's all pretty horrifying. Couple this with the fact that I have had the not-too-fine displeasure of losing a few more acquaintances this year in addition to my Mother along with this strange cosmic force that continues to exert a unseen force for me to remain in South Texas and I'm pretty much coming up with very rotund question marks.

I still know what I want. Out of life. For myself and for the people I hold Love for. So I have decided to spend the last few weeks of 2010 directing myself to those much desired runways, ladders, and canons. In 2011, I will make a fresh run at everything in hopes to cement a path that can lead me to fulfilling my dreams. For some people dreams die. LIFE GETS IN THE WAY. Sometimes it can be really easy to let it. It is LIFE after all and being distracted by it is something every soul on this pale blue dot succumbs to. BUT, if you can align life with a cemented path by focusing on the near future and realize the potential we all possess, then getting yet another step closer to the things you desire most in this world becomes a gratifying possibility.

A funny post of Facebook the other day: "Life gave me lemons, so I slit my wrist." -- Sam Eidson. It is HARD to saddle yourself day-to-day with the realities of the world in which we live. It's part of aging, but I would be willing to bet that if you asked anyone in decade long increments if they think the world is getting worse as they get older, the answer at mid-age would be a resounding, "yes." It's on our computer screens, TVs and portable devices every day, staring us in the face. People die. We get older. People we know and Love die, we get even older. Gray hairs start popping up. Suddenly that lower pain in your back is un-diagnosed arthritis that you'll find out about in five years when you HAVE to go to a Doctor because you can't take the pain anymore. Then, people start losing hope and some give up paving the way for a new more "optimistic" generation that will more than likely begin to feel the same way in ten years time. It's a cycle. Like Life. I see it now, very clearly, but I am choosing to remain on the side of optimism and to attempt to keep my hope intact.

I am choosing to let life get in the way, as long as it's in the way I want to go. Because I know where I'm going. Simple. no?

Lately

2009-04-10T22:57:00.012-05:00

My, My, My. It seems that I've neglected my little creation here for well over four months now. I've waited an entire season (winter, for anyone just joining us) to pick up the keyboard once more and trickle down some thoughts. I genuinely don't know how much longer I can keep my introspections innocuous and the thought of starting a new blog, with a new purpose and goal seems more and more attractive to me each day. For now, I'll write some words about me so that those of you who wish to have a greater peak than Facebook will allow, into my life, can do so, calmly and comfortably from the safety of their home. My next blog will definitely be more picture driven as it would seem that I usually collect at least 100 photos a month.

So let's start with the picture above. It was the premiere of a movie I acted in last year sometime. I had almost forgotten I was in it until I started getting etraffic from the producers about it's acceptance into South By South West, which happens to coincide perfectly with the arrival of my good friend Chris Tilly, imported fresh from London, England. Chris has found himself attracted to this city and especially the magic of SXSW. He has come here four times in three years; every year for SXSW and once for ACL.

There's Chris and I at Pangea, one of the more douchey clubs in town. He had managed to meet one of the owners who had us over for table service. Yeah, that's right, I said it, table service, ...in Austin, TX. Douchey.
Anyway, we watched many good movies together and I have to say I enjoyed the film festival way more than the music festival this year. There were highlights for the music fest, no doubt: Metallica
BUT, there were just so many great movies to see. Case in point, this man right here

That's Sam Raimi and I. Me and Sam. He doesn't know it, but I'm thinking to myself in this picture that this man is partially responsible for my foray into film school. He was very humble, and nervous, and real, and short. His movie, "Drag Me To Hell," is amazing. It would be his first horror film in 20 years. Mr. Spiderman himself has returned to his roots. If you get a chance to see this movie, please do. I'm not really in to scary movies at all. I close my eyes when the music swells. I prepare myself mentally for the scary parts. I really had to let go and give myself to this film and as a result, I screamed out loud and grabbed Chris Tilly, so hard, in fact, that he screamed too. Fortunately for us, the other 300 people at the paramount that night were screaming as well. Great night.
The weather has been really amazing here. For the most part we're still in a drought and when it rains I love it. There have a been a few instances where the days have ended so beautifully, that I've been forced to pull over with my camera and take some photos down at Auditorium shores and other relaxing spots.
There's always people out after work doing very relaxing things around Town Lake, or as it's now called, Lady Bird Lake.
I suppose the weather is primarily responsible for setting Austin up so well for SXSW. I mean, every day was gorgeous. If you happened to be stuck at work during the day, like yours truly, than all you could think about was getting free. It was a little more difficult breaking free of the store where I work, simply because now that I'm General Manager, they expect me to be there 24/7. In fact, when I negotiated my salary back in March of last year to be Bar Manager, the owner explicitly said, I would have to forgo South By South West. The request actually made me hesitate, as if that was a gigantic piece of my lively hood. I had literally been attending the festival in some capacity since 1998. So this year was tough, but not because I didn't have access. Chris Tilly sorted me out when arrived from London with extra press credentials from the news organization he's affiliated with. No, the tough part was finding the energy that had come so effortlessly in my 20s. Finding it was hard, rationing it, ...even harder. I spent most of the week following St Patty's Day (Busiest day of the year at my work) exhausted. If there was one thing I had come to realize about SXSW, it was that there was just sooooooo much to do. From the moment you woke up to the moment you, well, actually, you didn't even have to go to sleep if you didn't want to. And the reach of the day shows has made some hefty strides into East Austin as well. So many new shops have opened up over there smack dab in the middle of gentrification central. Bird's Barbershop, a hair salon that has become locally trendy and fairly successful have opened up two new shops. One in East Austin and another to be opening soon right next to Magnolia Cafe on South Congress. My buddy Mike cuts hair there and knew where all the free beer was hidden, after the other free beer had run out. Here's Mike really drunk Did I mention the free booze?? Everywhere??
Here's one of the boys outside. It got up to about 87 degrees that day. Travis and Mike still sport the cancer stick accessories.

Speaking of Travis, he's still on the runway of trying to get certified by the state to teach youngsters here in Austin or in surrounding cities. Meanwhile, he's met a lovely lady named Leann, well, her real name is Adriene, but we call her Leann, and they have spent tons of time together of late. Of course Travis is looking to get off the runway in that department as well. I think he may have found the right one for him, ...again.

I've made some changes to my diet. It has recently, like a slap in the face with an iron fist, come to my attention that I can no longer eat whatever I please. Unfortunately, everything I eat at my restaurant has found a way to come back out the way in which it came in and so last week I decided that I would no longer eat anything we sell. I also realized that I would have to start cooking for myself so I leaned on Gwenyth Paltrow and her bad ass web site Goop.com for a couple pointers and simple recipes that I could make here at home. Wednesday night comes along. I have a LOST viewing party where I invite two couples over (everybody seems to have a significant other except me these days) and I cook Sea Bass, make my own pesto and have an amazing dinner where everyone is pleased. This is something I have never done before. Unfortunately it all got eclipsed by LOST, but that's okay, I knew it would be good. What I didn't know, was that I could cook. That impressed me.

IT'S SNOWING!!!!! YAY CHRISTMAS!!!!

2008-12-09T23:23:00.003-06:00

So there I was this afternoon, standing outside the back door of the establishment to which I am currently employed and I realized that my back was sweating. It occurred to me to remove my sweater and the thought of going home to change into shorts actually crossed my mind.

Then the wind came. A Norwestern. In a matter of hours the mercury had dropped almost 35 degrees.

And as I sat watching "Six Feet Under," I heard what sounded like rain, but not quite. What I thought was rainfall had a more slushy noise to it. I walked outside and to my surprise, it was snowing. REAL SNOW!

It's only December 9th. I think we're in for some colder weather considering the snows usually only come in January or February.

Staying warm has become tantamount.

Change is upon us

2008-11-05T03:30:00.002-06:00

Barack Obama is the President of the United States. I'll say it again, because I'm not sure it has quite set in yet. Barack Obama is the President of the United States. It would be easy for me to say "I can't believe it," but the bottom line, the truth of the matter, is that I've been believing 'it' for well over a year or two now. I've followed Barack with every word, every sentence of every news article I could get my hands on. I would look and look and look for that one sentence that had the potential to thrust Barack Obama out of the stratospheric pedestal I held him in. It never came and the person I wished would lead this country was only further delineated with every speech given; every action taken. Through the nay-sayers, the pundits, the haters, the right-wingers, and even the wacked-out Hillary fans, I held my ground because I believed. I believed that simply by the way the man spoke, the eloquence of this speeches, the sound of his voice and his soothing intonation, ...that, was enough to tell me everything I needed to know about him. It was that glimmer of intelligence that attracted me in large part to what he had to say. Not a day has gone by where I'm not impressed by who this man is.

Now, today, he has been elected to be our 44th President. In one night of overwhelming news coverage of the election, the United States came to see exactly what is possible in this country. President Obama is the very personification of the American dream. When I was younger, my Father always told me that I could do anything I wanted to in life, as long as I put my mind to it. I believed every word, but somewhere along the way, somewhere in the last 8 years, I lost sight of that vision. That ambition. That vacancy was to become filled with mundane jobs, meager wages, and what I can only describe as an under-valuing of myself.

Seeing Barack on stage tonight with the whole world watching him speak, I realized my Father's words once more. He asks no more from all of us that our parents did when we started school and he touts the rewards made available by that very same hard work.

Earlier in the year, I wrote a blog where I coined a catch phrase for the year 2008. I said "hardcore GREAT in 08." And so far, this year has been really good to me in precisely the way in needs to be, right now. As for the future, 08 has become a springboard year for the acceleration of my ambition and a foundation of hope for the change that is to come.

Today I'm happy. Happy because I listened to all the phone calls from the rest of the world stream across the BBC last night. I'm happy because I know that our country can finally start healing from the last 8 years. I'm happy because I know that when my kids and and grandkids talk about the day the first African-American was elected President, I can say that I watched it all go down, and it was a great day across out country, ...a great day indeed.

New York I love you, but nothing...

2008-09-13T03:56:00.006-05:00

That's right, I'm all about Analog. When it comes to class, there's not much digital can do to compete with the tradition, history and foundation that analog devices carved out for us in almost every area of life such as watches, film, vinyl, and I'll just go ahead and throw this one in there because I invented it. That's right, I have invented the first Analog GPS system that gives me all pertinent information to operate in any given area of the world. Specifically, I just took a trip to New York City and surrounding areas (more about that later). While walking the city streets and taking trains to and fro, I relied upon my Analog to get me where I needed to go and to tell me where I was without seeming too much like your average tourist. I suppose the best way to describe it might be like taking the average or the split difference between an I-Phone and a giant map of the city, although, everyone who used my analog in NYC (and there were many) would stop short of calling it anything, but average. Smaller than a giant obnoxious map that says, "hey, I'm not from here," and blinds you to the fast pace that's vitally required to be on the move at all times. Quicker and more accurate loading time than an IPhone, the analog combines the best of both worlds. It took me exactly one hour to build and was worth it's weight in gold, oil, or milk, while walking the streets of New York, not to mention, the black, vinyl exterior proved to be very fashionable as well. Couture for sure.

New York was amazing!!

It occurred to me en route to JFK airport that I hadn't actually been to the city since before 9/11 and not only that, but not since I turned 21. I had been with family around that area tons of times when I was a kid, but obviously it takes on a whole new meaning when you go circa 30 years old as a full fledged adult. My flight arrived just before 4pm four Thursdays ago and right before my train from the airport went underground to head towards the city, I saw a dark, ominous rain cloud. When I emerged from the station, it was pouring rain. I had dropped my umbrella and jacket on the floor of my house here in Austin right before the cab took me to the airport, thinking it would all be too much to carry. So there I was kicking myself, under an awning of some drug store on Houston & 2nd Avenue, holding my bag (which had broken), trying not to get wet with the other poor bastards who hadn't planned on rain. There was literally no more room and as I stood there, for the most part dry, watching people running without umbrellas to get home, a young girl grabbed my arm in shock right as a giant bolt of lightning struck about 200 yards away. "Did you see that," she said. My right bicep tightening, I calmly replied, "yeah, that was pretty cool." Really, I had just shit myself. I couldn't believe that I was in the middle of this crazy electric storm at one of the busiest intersections in NYC during rush hour no less (massive honking). I did the only thing I felt comfortable doing, I started talking. Before I knew it, 45 minutes had past, the rain was just about to let up and this girl, Katy, who I had just had the most lovely Manhattan moment with, was asking me what direction I was going in. After consulting my Analog during the hell storm, I knew what direction I was going in, and as it turned out, Katy was going that way too. She was on her way to her "ghetto" gym as she called it. I asked her why and she said it's because how cheap it is. I thought it looked lovely from the outside once we arrived and noted the people running on treadmills inside. We parted ways and exchanged phone numbers as it turned out she lived right down the street from where I would be staying. Already my Vay-K was an adventure with romance. Amazing.

The air was cool later that night as my Uncle Joe Velez (Que pasa Puerto Rico!), who works in the city for Con Edison took me, his wife Cathy, and his very grown-up daughter, my cousin, Kayla, to dinner at some nice Italian joint. I say nice, because the food was good and it was very small and quaint to exist in such a big city. I thought how cool it was to be out on the sidewalk one moment and then isolated from the outside in what would seem like any normal restaurant. No windows and the only doors are at the front and back. My Uncle Joe took us down the FDR South to see the waterfalls.
I was developing a headache from all the motion (planes, trains, and automobiles) all day and Kayla and my Uncle rolled the windows down to smoke. Being "off cigarettes" was also changing me after all this time as well. I had an adverse reaction to smelling their cigs that potentially worsened my headache, but I just rolled my window down, admired the view as the Brooklyn Bridge came up on the left side of the car and the cool air blew over my face. Absolutely beautiful. I got dropped off back at the place I was staying on East 7th Street, said goodbye and headed up to my buddies who were waiting with beers and party faces. I on the other hand, could only think about a nice, long, bath. Something my 6'2" frame has denied me for years now.
And so I took 45 minutes, turned the lights off, lit some candles and got in a giant, bathtub, filled with hot water and placed a cold compress upon my face. All I could hear were the sounds from the city. It was calming, soothing even, and by the time I had dried off, I was 100% again and happy. There was always an undercurrent of excitement and happiness that never went away, the whole time I was there, ...it was always there, like a drug, and when I got back, I missed it, wanted more of it. I'm not sure a city has ever had that affect on me. Of course it may have had something to do with the beautiful apartment I was staying in and the view from the roof.

Anywho, I won't bore you with the intimate details of my trip, instead I invite you to live vicariously through my memories. I lost twelve pounds walking around the city in my Chuck Taylors, which, on the final day were no longer conducive with the well being of my dawgs. I could also feel the bones on my left ankle starting to rub together with every step. Painful, but more on par with nails on a chalkboard instead of actual, physical pain. I set out to buy new shoes, but believe it or not, no one could send me to a place where I saw anything I liked. Day two was spent in Battery Park, going to a installation by David Byrne called "Playing the Building,"

and taking the Staten Island Ferry which was magical. Right before they let the large group of us onto the ferry, we were held in this foyer where a musician with a cello started playing the bass line to "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds," from the beginning. The lyrics are, "Picture yourself in a boat on a river, with tangerine trees and marmalade skies..." Then the doors opened, we were hit by the breeze off the water, and everyone started walking. It was by very definition, a perfect moment. It was magical and I thought, in that moment, that memory would forever be imbedded in my mind, better than any picture could represent. The ferry ride was no let down either. Every second was picturesque as the city faded away with all it's bustling and noise which cross-faded nicely with the sound of the water and the 5pm view of the Statue of Liberty.

I thought it unfair that I was stuck with some shit eating permagrin, but when I noticed the same on the face of Jason, Jeff, Adam and David, I knew I was not alone and my happiness was re-enforced with the notion that I was sharing those moments with my friends.

Later on that night Adam and I went on to Brooklyn to meet up with our good friends and Brooklyn residents Lee Eddy and Liz Wakehouse-Werzner. Jeff and David were coming late for some reason. Oh yeah. Adam seriously doubted my ability to lead and navigate us to the Radegast Hall and Biergarten in Williamsburg. He doubted the Analog's supreme capabilities, like most upon first glance, but then he realized that not only was the Analog one of the most amazing inventions he had seen in some time, but more importantly, I had my shit together. Bottom line peeps, navigating is about to become one of the lost arts of the human race with the advent of GPS and Google Earth. There is something romantic, nostalgic about sailors who stared into the stars for direction, and for me, navigating has always come second nature. Trying to convince others of my ability is the hard part. Adam didn't have a choice, so I won out by default and he certainly wasn't down for the challenge. We arrived at the hall and it was big, dark, smelled of freshly cooked brautwurst, and they played nothing but hardcore gypsy music, (Gogol Bordello included). I drank my liter beer (Blanche De Bruxelles) and chatted with Lee and Liz who seemed to have only become more beautiful and cosmopolitan. I made sure to let them know. Jeff showed up and then we started barhopping around Brooklyn.
Five bars in total, all fun, most of the recommended to me and downloaded to my Analog. It was a late night, but the craziness was yet to come. We took a late trip by cab to Bed-Stuy and then back to the East Village. We chatted and then fell asleep in the living room.

Saturday was the night of the play Jeff, Jason, Omid, Natalie, and my new friend Jeremy Sexton were working on, entitled, "Sad, sad, sad." I got out of the apartment as early as I could to do some shopping. David Higgns was down, so we met in Chinatown near the Walkerspace, which is the name of the theatre. Things kind of got out of hand. David and I walked up and down Broadway in SOHO shopping. I mean, power-shopping. We went to some crazy soap shop where they make your hands feel like they did when you were a baby (bought some of that shit for sure!), and then we went to various clothing stores and spent way too much money. No shoes though. David and I walking with our bags in hand, looking slightly schleppy, although, to be fair, David looked very chic and I was primarily schlep-a-fied. We watched the play, which was sad, went to a Tavern in Tribeca, which was rad, and watched Michael Phelps win his 8th and final gold medal, which was mad. Before his swim, there were maybe twenty people in my general proximity, but when Phelps was swimming, that number jumped to fifty. People were on their chairs, everyone was chanting "USA," and Jeffery was yelling "swim," which I thought was appropriate.
Here's Jeffery now expounding on fluid dynamics and the Phelpsian nature of swimming

That would not have happened in Austin. Omid doesn't drink beer, so him and I were going back and forth, buying shots of tequila, getting everyone drunk, including ourselves. We went back up town afterwards and wound up at some lounge on East 11th between 1st ave. and Avenue A. That's when I realized how pricey everything was. I had just opened a tab at the other place and let it ride, but when I called for five shots and a beer and she shouts back, "That'll be 65," I was like, "What!?" Yeah, that was the last round I bought, but they DID give us tickets to go get some free pizza in the back. We went back to the pad around 3am and went up to the roof which has an exceptional view to say the very least. We hung out up there in a circle and made each other laugh until the sun came up. But to be fair we had help from Chicken Elmo.

Sunday was the first day I realized I would be leaving it all soon and something about that bothered me. I was having way too much fun. Our next stop would be just as huge though. We all headed to Coney Island. Adam, Jeff, and myself got off on the last stop on the Q train and met Lee and her man Macon on the beach. It was nice being near a huge body of water like that. The boardwalk was bustling with life and music and really intricate smells. I made sure to indulge in a Nathan's chili dog. I even got one without chili to make sure I wasn't missing out on anything. Word on the street is that they're closing it down soon. Shame. It was all so surreal, even the fact I was desperately searching to purchase a large, Puerto Rican Flag beach towel, but no luck.

In the days that followed, I got to go to the MOMA, I ate lunch in Bryant Park with Brent, LIz, Jeff and Adam and I bought a new bag somewhere near Radio City Music Hall. Central Park was a doozy too, but very pretty, ANd central.

I got to see my very good friend Nina and her husband Jason and her unborn child (but not really because it's still inside her) on the upper-west side. My time with them was short, but I brought them tortillas and Obama paraphernalia, and Jason shared some of the German rum she had just brought back from her trip to Germany. Nina immediately instructed Jason to make breakfast tacos with the tortillas I had brought for dinner and like the amazing person he is, he obliged. It was nice seeing Nina one more time before the baby will be born, but in retrospect, I don't think i appreciated the moment fully and felt like I'd forgotten to say something before I left due to the rush I was in to get all the way to Prospect Park, Brooklyn in time for some Mexican food with the gang. That's the funny thing; I really took for granted how much time it takes to get places on the subway. Even when the trains were running fast, I continually underestimated the time it took to get from one area to the next. It was a good lesson for sure.

Anyway, on my last day, I made sure to thank Jeff for making my visit so awesome and had a brief brunch with Natalie and Adam before leaving for the airport. The flight back was quick and Adriene picked me up at the airport, and that was nice.

I can't quite pinpoint what I miss the most about my trip. I did feel a certain giddiness when I came across Jason and Natalie after I had returned to Austin and run into them at a party. They were giddy as well. It was like we all were sharing a secret that was totally bad ass and no one else knew about and it made us feel like those old people in the movie Cocoon after they had been swimming with the pods in the water. We talked about our adventures and the things I missed when I left and Jason left, respectively.

So I'm still not sure what I miss most, I just know I'll need to keep going back and, so, real soon, that is what I'll do. Plus, I've always wanted to see the Christmas tree at Rockafeller Center.

Geez.

Goodbye July, Goodbye.

2008-07-31T22:46:00.011-05:00

Thought this would be funny as I was just prattling on to someone the other day about being flagged for using the word "terrorism" on Facebook. David Rees is brilliant and I’m glad that this cartoon has now officially premiered online. After reading the comic for years now and again and seeing a play, aptly titled, Get Your War On here in Austin, I knew that it would make a perfect introduction to my last entry for the hot ass month of July.

Speaking of hot asses, mine was very much on fire today, …and I’m not just talking about the normal level of enticement by my ass, I mean the mercury got up to 101 degrees today down in South Austin where I call home and the heat index, which is what the “weatherman” says it actually “feels like” outside, made it seem closer to 107. August, will of course be even hotter and it appears that for the next week, temps will climb and stay in the land of triple-digits for the next 7 to 10 days. It makes me sick to think of what life will be like when I’m fifty and the summers get so hot that people are forced to work from home, tires melt, water evaporates, and chromosomes are inexorable altered for future generations. It kind of reminds me of that Twilight Episode entitled The Midnight Sun.

Here’s Rod Serling’s introduction:

“The word that Mrs. Bronson is unable to put into the hot, still, sodden air is ‘doomed,’ because the people you’ve just seen have been handed a death sentence. One month ago, the Earth suddenly changed its elliptical orbit and in doing so began to follow a path, which gradually, moment by moment, day by day, took it closer to the Sun. And all of man’s little devices to stir up the air are now no longer luxuries - they happen to be pitiful and panicky keys to survival. The time is five minutes to twelve, midnight. There is no more darkness. The place is New York City and this is the eve of the end, because even at midnight it’s high noon, the hottest day in history, and you’re about to spend it in the Twilight Zone.”

Well at least California knows what to do. They’re suing the EPA.
That’s right, they’ve filed a lawsuit against the Environmental Protection Agency for “ignoring its duty to regulate greenhouse gas emissions.” They wouldn’t be alone and this wouldn’t be the first time. As many as 12 to 18 other states have filed similar lawsuits on more than one occasion calling for the resignation of the EPA Administrator, Stephen Johnson and accusing the organization of violating the Clean Air Act.

Why would Mr. Johnson violate laws and mandates for cleaner air and water in the U.S.? Just follow the money.

Anywho, to be totally honest, I’ve spent a large portion of my time this summer indoors exactly for the above stated reason. I wake up, usually in a dark, cooled home, cringe at a warm shower, get in my hot car, ridden with guilt about even turning the key, blast my way to work, and remain inside for eight hours while I watch the asphalt and the people walking on it bake. I’ve even started going to a gym and running on a treadmill because as much as I’d like to think running outside at 4 o’clock in the afternoon is the ultimate in being a hardcore member of the Y chromosome world, it’s just really become quite dangerous.

Besides, you can still be hardcore indoors, right? I mean, yesterday, on my day off I answered the call of a very good friend of mine who just took the helm at a local theatre company here in town called Salvage Vanguard Theatre that was not left in the best of condition, to say the very least. He needed some sort of archived video clip of a play my theatre company, the St Idiot Collective, put on last August at SVT’s space on Manor Road, for a grant submission. I immediately jumped onto my computer, plugged some wires into shit, and put together a two minute, rrrrrrough, ohhhh so rough trailer for the show and threw it at him across the ether into his computer. I also posted it on You Tube. It’s called The Rainbow Family of the Serendipitous Now and it would be the last show we all would work on together before taking a hiatus.

Have a look:

Oh, I almost forgot, look what finally came in the mail…
That’s right, my very own Obama car magnet. I haven’t actually decided where to put it on my car, or maybe I’m thinking of a way to quantify my emotional state when I find out that someone’s realized it’s a magnet and stolen it. Until then, it’ll have to stay cool and undamaged by the threats of the outside world, sort of like our next President, Barack Obama. BAM, SUCKA! WHAT?

I’m flying up to New York City in two weeks to visit the plethora of friends I know cohabitating in places like Manhattan, Brooklyn, and even New Jersey. I’ve been to NYC several times, but not since 9/11, so I’m expecting it to be on par with my visit to post-Katrina New Orleans last year, just way more intense. Especially with the weather. When I was younger, my parents sent me upstate every summer to escape the heat of the inner city and let me just say this, that area, is the SHIZNIT and everyone living in NYC should be putting money away to buy real estate up there to escape to so the heat doesn't make you want to kill someone. No shit, it's absolutely gorgeous and possibly one of the best kept secrets in this country with the world's attention aimed at NYC. While visiting the hot, hot city, I will do many things. The list thus far includes, but is not limited to: The Met, The MOMA, David Byrnes Installation in Battery Park followed by the Staten Island Ferry, check out the waterfalls, and see a play my friends are in during the New York Fringe Fest. There is also talk of a comeback from my basketball retirement for a one-time-only, West coast v. East coast battle somewhere in Brooklyn on Friday night, but I have to buy high tops first. My ankle deserves better. Suggestions?

This Saturday, I will go back to the IMAX to view The Dark Knight once more with friends as it pushes it's way well past the $300 million dollar mark amassing the economic and mythic strength to de-throne the number 1 money making movie of all time. Titanic. This time, I will be taking notes to write a full review when I get back home. I realized two nights ago, that the movie had been carrying some weight with me since I saw it last. Interviews and commentaries heard on NPR throughout the week about the way the world is spinning, intermingled inside my head with thoughts of Christopher Nolan’s fatalistic interpretation of Batman and I totally spat out a very dark and dystopian comparison of his new film as metaphor for the very uncertain world we live in now, while out with friends at a bar the other night. It definitely made for some interesting conversation. To be totally honest, I really enjoyed talking about the stresses of pushing through the first years of the 21st century, but it felt like our conversation ended in stalemate, with no pragmatic answer for hope in the near future. I digress, too much.

Other than that, tonight, before I head to dreamy land, I will put that last ‘X’ on my calendar signifying that it’s been 65 days since my last cigarette. “How’s it going,” you ask? For the first time in my adult life, I FEEL good. I feel free from the almost 600 additives that people in white coats are getting paid exuberant amounts of money to synthesize. Additives that make me, ... that force me, psychosomatically, to want nothing more than to burn the aforementioned additives, turning them into very toxic chemicals you never hear about and since you're not actually buying the shit you inhale, the FDA could care less. I've given ten years of my life and money to big tobacco so that I can slowly kill myself, fuck my body chemistry, damage my genes, and do God knows what to people around me. So "how's it going," you say? Fucking great!

Holy broken records Batman!

2008-07-19T04:26:00.003-05:00

Well, it's official. Variety is reporting that the "The Dark Knight" has officially started its record breaking non-holiday, weekend by opening on Friday with ticket sales topping $60 million dollars (beating Spiderman 3 - 59.8 mil) and the biggest midnight show opening (Beating Star Wars III Revenge of the Sith - 16.9) ever with $18.5 million dollars on midnight shows alone!

Do the math. 60 million times, Friday X1, Saturday X2, Sunday X3 = 180 million. Add in some repeat views (for sure) and the fact that people don't work on Saturday and Sunday and well, I'm putting the final weekend tally at over 200 million for the weekend, which would de-throne "Spiderman 3" and take it's rightful place as the biggest opening weekend in the history of the box office.

I'm set to view this bad boy tomorrow night and have been trying desperately to dodge friends and reviews online that might hint at it's brilliance. All I need is one douche bag to come up to me and tell me it sucked for me to throw my hands up in anger and punch that person square in the jaw. And why? "Why," you ask? Because their being stupid!

For the love of GOD...

2008-07-09T14:14:00.001-05:00

C'mon, how is this even happening in our day and age? Please, can someone tell me? WHere have all the good guys gone??? Batman, where are you??

Ranty...

2008-07-03T03:42:00.003-05:00

So, on my way to work today, I got massively rear-ended as I was stopped with my turn signal on. When I finally turned onto the street (the main road right up to where I work), the Purple Saturn that rear-ended me sped away so fast that even turning around, I couldn't catch him. I can't begin to talk about how angry I was that this person didn't even stop to see if I was okay. Upon further review, it appeared that my rear fender was cracked, but for the most part, my triumphant Ford Escort Wagon, nicknamed Battlestar Tealactica, went unscathed. I, unfortunately did not get a license plate and in my shock, I thought about the other person's motivation for running and if I had ever been in a similar situation. I remember being in a similar fender-bender, but usually my guilt and concern for the other person's well being forced me to pull along side the other car.

Why is everyone getting so crazy lately??

GM is on the verge of going bankrupt, Fox News is telling the most obscene lies, the Earth's magnetic fieldsare changing fast, JAY-Z an American Hip-hop artist, rocked out Glastonbury, simultaneously mocking Oasis for their snide comments, there's talk that Heath Ledger could be nominated for an Oscar, the world's best athletes are about converge in one of the most polluted cities in the world for the Olympic games, Monsoons, Cyclones, tornadoes, and Earthquakes are killing thousands, most of the ice at the north poll is gone, and on and on...

WTF?????????

And Here, ...we, ...Go!

2008-06-26T23:55:00.011-05:00

Oh my GOD!! Is there anyone else out there who just can't wait for "The Dark Knight" to come out on July 18th??? Do you become paralyzed and find yourself transfixed on your television or local movie screen when the trailer comes on, hairs on the back of your neck standing straight up??? I cannot wait for this film to come out. Reading an article on Wired online did help me a bit, allowing me to thrust my emotions into tight sentences and filming factoids concerning Christopher Nolan's latest production. Check it out here. Here's an exceprt:

Nolan's use of Imax is the natural fulfillment of an experiment he launched with Batman Begins in 2005. That film depicted Batman's dogged, bruising rise from angry rich kid to driven crime fighter, and it hinted at the consequences of embracing one's inner demon, even in the service of good. Begins ended with a warning: Batman has escalated the war. His presence ensures the rise of equally quixotic, equally obsessed adversaries. One of these leaves a calling card at murder scenes: a joker. Batman promises the police he'll look into it. In The Dark Knight, he does, and it looks right back at him, with the leering, paint-smeared face of the late Heath Ledger. Eight stories tall. Cruel reality mashed up with the comic-book carnivalesque — unvarnished, without the comforting buffer of f/x. In an Imax theater, your eyes can't wander off Nolan's enveloping canvas and can't easily dismiss what they're seeing as trickery. Maybe that's the most special effect of all.

Let's just start with Christopher Nolan. There isn't a bad movie this guy has made.

1998 Following 1st feature length film in black and white. Nothing shy of brilliant for a first film and for the budget it had. Everything you could want in an independent first film.

2000 Memento If you haven't seen this movie, it's one that's carved a place out for itself in film history. Go rent it and see why!

2002 Insomnia An American remake five years after the Norwegian original that is currently a Criterion collection film was released. Very slow and restless, perfectly matched for the story that unfolds onscreen. Not amazing, but a good character study and a film that grows on you with each viewing.

2005 Batman Begins A darker, broodier, redo of the 1989 Blockbuster that launched the movie franchise. This film completely exceeded my expectations and notions of a new Batman film being "too soon." If I had a dollar for every time I've watched this movie.

2006 The Prestige Not his best film, but not a bad film either. Beautifully shot and well acted for the most part with a cameo by David Bowie, the casting and acting was not up to previous Nolan standards, but the story was fascinating.

2008 Batman: The Dark Knight And here we are, full circle. Christian Bale, Michael Cane, Gary Oldman, the late Heath Ledger (being creepy on so many levels), Aaron Eckhart, Morgan Freeman, and a last minute sub for Katie Holmes with Maggie Gyllehnall. Looks to be spectacular!

I also have never had the pleasure of watching a movie in an IMAX theatre before. I think after reading the article above, I will finally pop my IMAX cherry. Expect to find me in a dark, air-conditioned, IMAX theatre the weekend of the 17th watching what I'm sure will blow Blockbusters for the last 10 years out of the water.

01 Lord of the Rings - Fellowship of the Ring (exception)
02 Spiderman - (blew)
03 Lord of the Rings - Return of the King (exception)
04 Shrek 2 (Give me a fucking break!)
05 Star Wars episode 3 (I think I just threw up in my mouth a bit)
06 Pirates of the Caribbean (Shoot me already)
07 Spiderman 3 (puke) Transformers (Die Michael Bay) Pirates of the Caribbean again (the shittiest piece of shit)
08 Iron Man (not bad) Indiana Jones (Holy Loser Auteurs club Batman!!)

After the horrible blockbuster summer of 2007, can we finally have some intelligent panache from a filmmaker that cares about shunning digital effects and going for the genuine article when it comes to filmmaking? I think we can. I think Chris Nolan is going to bring it home. Rolling Stone's review here.

So Bring it on Chris. Bring it on. We're ready.

The Sydney Film Festival and Scott...

2008-06-25T13:46:00.004-05:00

Just a quick note here about my buddy Scott Henderson and the Sydney film fest. It has of course come to a close as of June 22, but I did want to put a link here for his incredibly funny video podcasts that he's done with some collegues down there in wintery Sydney as well as link to an article Scott asked me to write for the website about a movie called "Respect Yourself: The History of Stax Records." I've written under the pseydonym William Francis and for those who know where this homage is derived from, then count yourself as one of the special ones. Enjoy!!!

“I Had a Dream I Went to Bonnaroo.” –B. Shea

2008-06-24T16:32:00.001-05:00

That is indeed what it felt like, …a dream. We were only on holiday for a week, but in that week, we traveled into the heart of America’s vast fields of nothingness to set up camp and live detached and self-contained away from our jobs, families and most importantly stress for four days. Of course the total trip was for a week and we found that our time at Bonnaroo was mostly bookended by copious amounts of time in our very fashionable and spacey Toyota Sienna. It was a van built for 8, but we were just 5 with a shit load of bags and gear.

We set off out of Austin at around 7am and instead of having us stop every five minutes to take pee breaks, I thought it would be a good idea to maximize our drive time by urinating in empty bottles along the way.

Mike, who was having his first go at the realm of traveling to a camping style festival, did not approve and was angered by my urinating in a bottle. He was afraid that I would somehow not manage to urinate entirely in the bottle and spray his pillow.

I told him to shut up and that he was being a baby.

Anyway, that’s us there on the road. Don’t worry. I got Mike who was driving at the time to look back at me last.

Our first stop was Memphis, TN, home of Stax Records, Beale Street, Graceland, and of course, my father’s brother, Neil Shea. My brother and I dropped the boys off downtown at the motel they booked in advance and proceeded to travel deep into the suburbs of Shelby County to spend the night with our Aunt and Uncle whom we had not seen in some time. We had BBQ dinner at a place called Corky’s, went back home, watched the Celtics play the Lakers and drank some Scotch that I had purchased for my Uncle as a gift for his 70th birthday.

It was nice and relaxing and in the morning, I felt rejuvenated, refreshed and ready to push on to Nashville for stop number two before getting to Bonnaroo. Unfortunately, Matt, Mike, and Travis decided to take it to the house the previous night and with the exception of Matt all looked like hammered shit. Travis apparently didn’t even get out of bed until like 10 minutes before I arrived back at the motel to pick them up. “Whoa guys! Easy! We’re not even at Bonnaroo yet. Geez.” This is right after I told Travis he looked like hammered shit. It took him about five whole seconds to muster up the energy he somehow found in his aged bones to give me this sign that he heard me from the back seat. At least he's got his priorities straight. Most of the time when I partied hard AND smoked vast amounts of cancer sticks, it usually left my mouth feeling like an ashtray the next morning, but I guess he "needs" it. **Don't forget about the "cough," that I was being accused of spreading.**

We continued on to Nashville with our regular individual regimens. I drove, cause I LIKE IT, Travis read his new Hunter S. Thompson book about the Hells Angels aloud to Matt, but had to pass it over to Matt to read because he kept having coughing fits. *These would later be blamed on me because I had some massive coughing fits on the last day of the festival. No one remembers before because of how massive my fits were. But hey, it was dusty; I had quit smoking and was on the road with four other serious smokers. Bryan my brother played Pac Man on his new phone and Mike slept. I wouldn’t pee in another bottle till later the next day.

Nashville was boring. The motel that my brother and I sort of got suckered into splitting/paying for, and thusly staying in with Travis and Mike couldn’t have been in a worse section of town. Bryan and I once again deviated from the group to visit our Uncle’s daughter, our cousin, Kristen who lived about 15 minutes away from the motel. It was good to see her. We went out for Sushi, talked about what I consider the myth of A.D.D. or A.D.H.D., Global Warming, and why my Uncle seems to take Rush Limbaugh as gospel. It was good hanging out with Kristen and her new husband Claiborne who I’ve really come to respect and admire. He made mention of this mythological cousin of his named Oceana who was absolutely beautiful and potentially single. I was asking why she wasn’t at dinner with us. It’s always been that way with this state and I. Tennessee and my family that lives there always seem to know some beautiful ladies that could be a potential good match for me, but because my stay in Tennessee is always so brief, it never works out. I'd have to love 'em and leave 'em and I'm just not sure I'm down with that. They would have me just move there, but, I don’t think it’s for me.

ANYWHO, sorry to get off track there. I got back to the motel much later than I wanted to after procuring provisions from the local grocery store and went to sleep ultra fast. Unfortunately, my coughing fits began that night and I kept people up. We left Nashville at like 7 in the morning to get a good camping spot. This would be the start of things to come in the early rise department of sleep. Matt decided that night to spend the evening and the subsequent late night hours with his future fiancé, Shannon. He also decided that he would just leave when he wanted to the next day and meet us at the camp sight, somehow. At first people were sort of upset with his last minute game-plan alteration. Not with the fact he was spending time with his future fiancee whom he would very soon be married to for the rest of his life (early November), but rather the timing with which he decided to notify us, but we somehow all managed to get past it, wish him the best and when our paths did cross at Bonnarro, we hung.

The road into the Bonnaroo campground was long and so was the traffic. There were several points where we stopped our car, put in neutral and pushed it down the road.

Everyone seemed to be adopting this philosophy and who could blame him or her. With gas prices hovering around the 4-dollar mark, turning the car off seemed to be the best idea for a lot of people.

We met up with Brian Scipione, my other roommate in Nashville and drove down to Bonnaroo wingman-style that morning so that we could park next to each other and maximize our camping space. When we finally got into the camping area with our car, we started unloading and started building our “area.” We never really named it, but we brought so many chairs, that our neighbors, both to the left and right came and joined us under our pop up tent/pavilion thing for most of the four days and just like that we had ourselves an intricate little community.

The people to left, we called the “The Peaches” because they were from Atlanta, GA. Just out of high school and having the summer of their lives, Kate, Taylor, Rebecca, and Tom had decided to travel to Bonnaroo after graduating from high school. It was interesting getting to interact with someone in a place in their lives that we occupied not too long ago. I mostly kept my mouth shut, except for questions I would ask about what their hobbies were and stuff. I watched as everyone else tried to depart some sort of wisdom they had obtained somewhere in the last ten years of their lives. The neighbors to the right we called, “The Js.”
Not because they had a bunch of Marijuana cigarettes, but because their names were Josh and Jessica and it was thought we could just refer to them both as ‘J.’ They were from Green Bay, WI and made a nice addition to our little community.

The festival in general was very welcoming with not nearly as many rules as Coachella had last year. I mean, we could bring booze into the campsite; we could go back and forth to the festival grounds as much as we wanted, even though it was far away. The searching at the gate was lax most of the time and everyone around you just settled for having a good time and for the most part, they were responsible enough to keep it safe and respectable.Inside the festival grounds, entitled “Centeroo,” there was a plethora of booths selling everything from food, to incense, to clothing, to shoes and even booths that were trying to sell opinions about the war, famine, and poverty. There was a booth for almost everything and for the first time in Bonnaroo history, there was a post office made of clay where you could mail items to the outside world.

There was the comedy tent where I saw some funny laughy type stuff and of course the Bonnaroo cinema tent, both of which were air-conditioned. The latter housed screenings of films as late at 4 or 5 am in some cases showing titles ranging from Daft Punk’s documentary “Electroma,” to the new Hunter S. Thomson doc called “Gonzo,” and of course the late night film noir screenings included titles like “The Maltese Falcon” and “Sunset Boulevard.” Sadly, I only went there to watch the Celtics and the Lakers play as both games 4 and 5 were shown.
There were many Boston fans and they were screaming after game four all night, but not so much after game 5, but we all know how that would end, wouldn’t we?

Some of the acts I got to see were: Superdrag, MGMT, Battles, The Sword who rocked the house, Vampire Weekend and a little of Lez Zeppelin who also rocked pretty hard and could be heard throughout the park. Thursday night is also the night where I went to the comedy tent to watch Reggie Watts who is fucking hilarious and Zach Galifianakis, who to me seemed a little overrated and whose set seemed sedated at best.

On Friday, I managed to see the Drive-By Truckers, Minus the Bear and The Swell Season. The latter is a group comprised of to the two lovely individuals from the movie “Once” that won the Academy Award for best original song “Falling Slowly.” Glen Hansard’s powerful voice and very weathered guitar were a high point of the afternoon and his rich, Irish voice carried far across the park bringing listeners from far away who were wondering about this Irish musician wailing at the top of his lungs. He said something I’d never forget too. He talked about obstacles in life and how frustrating they can be sometimes. He said that if you ever come up against an obstacle in life that you can’t get around and you’ve spent a lot of time and energy trying to get around this wall, as he called it, turn around put it at your back and travel all the way around the world so that eventually you get the other side of that wall. Marketa Irglova came out with the band and they all played amazing music for the next hour and a half. The crowd cheered and begged for an encore and they got it too. This would be one of the treasures of Bonnaroo. One I got to share with my friend Mike Byers. I went on to watch M.I.A., the Sri Lankan, west Londoner that now resides in Brooklyn. Her set was energetic, but objectively speaking, she’s just rapping to a record, so I didn’t really give her points for creativity and didn’t really watch the whole thing. Later on, my friends and I met up at the main stage to see Chris Rock who couldn’t have been funnier. All us guys were laughing so hard, we ran into coughing fits that left us hunched over, trying to recover our breath. I stayed to watch Metallica after Rock just because I never saw them growing up, but I was never a fan during my adolecesense. It was okay. They apparently played the hits and my roommates seemed to enjoy it. I thought it was funny though that these guys who are so much older now, with wedding rings on and kids were trying to rock out like they did almost 17 years ago on the stage in front of me. They seemed a little in genuine to me and that might not be due to lack of trying, but rather to the fact they are outdated, or the fact that I just really don’t fancy Metallica. I called it a night after that. I meant to go back to the tent, regroup and refresh, but when I sat down, not only did I almost fall asleep, but also it started to rain, heavily. I was a prisoner under the pavilion we’d set up and someone had lowered it really close to the ground so that you had to bend over to get underneath it. So there I was with Matt, my brother, and the Js. Travis and Brian were out at the festival grounds most likely getting drenched. For fear of our tent flooding, I headed for the van and slept the night in back.

By Saturday morning, it was clear and sunny again. It was like it never rained and if it wasn’t for the patchy cloud cover in the morning, you’d never see any sign that it did. I decided to get a jump on things and head for the $7.00 showers because Saturday was going to be the biggest of all days as far as time spent in the sun, acts to be seen, and other things to be done. I needed to be mentally and physically prepared. I headed out around 3:15pm to catch the end of Against Me!’s set and headed over to the Which stage to get a good spot for Gogol Bordello who couldn’t have put on a better set to date. The formula was similar to other shows with a few notable differences. It was good gypsy dance rock and I loved every minute of it. Matt Reeb, who with my brother came out there with me headed right for the mosh pit and grabbed that concert by its horns. I tried to follow, but the people were compressed and Matt seemed to have something to prove. He last for about half the set and I kept eyes on him until I saw him make a B-line for the nearest crowd exit. I supposed something was wrong, but was trapped by people all around me, not to mention being lulled closer by Gogol’s siren songs for the finale. I would go on to see Ben Folds, Iron & Wine and then over to Jack Johnson where I met Travis and Mike to prepare for Pearl Jam’s evening set. Mike still seemed to loath Jack Johnson and all the people around us that were singing to his Hawaiian, relaxed, bouncy, love songs, but Travis seemed to enjoy it and even remarked that he thought he was good. I’ve always sort of liked Jack Johnson, but to be totally honest, I was there for the Pearl Jam push. Those few seconds when the crowds would open up after Jack Johnson and Travis and would make our way up to the front for Pearl Jam.

Then something happened. Matt called Travis trying to find the keys to the van. We had decided that someone holding on to the keys every day was unfair to any one of us that wanted to go back to the van to regroup so I decided Saturday that the keys should be stashed somewhere nearby for the day. Travis hid them and then text us the location. Matt and my brother couldn’t find them to save their lives and it seemed that one of us (Mike, Travis or myself) were going to have to leave and go back to help out because as it turned out, both my brother Bryan and Matt were in a darker place. It was frustrating because Jack Johnson had already played the majority of his set and Ed Ved had just come out to do a song with him too. Finally, I called them back and verbally whipped them both into finding the keys and sure enough, after like twenty minutes of looking, they found them. Turns out they were just looking in the wrong place. Geniuses. So Mike hung back and Travis and I pushed to the front. We got as close as we possibly could (turns out there was a pit area fenced off that we knew nothing about, but people were waiting three hours to get into). And then, right at 10:15, it happened. Pearl Jam took the stage and played the most amazing, set of rarities and hits alike. Ed Ved had his words to say about the war, gas, and voting, but other than that, it was rock, rock, and more rock. I’m ashamed at myself for not bringing my camera and not getting this act on 1s and 0s. I was worried about rain and wanted to travel light that day. It was incrEdible in EvEry way PEarl Jam was ExpEctEd to be in my mind. They closed the show with “All Along the Watchtower,” and to be honest, I just looked at Travis in amazement. I was speechless and could only vocalize my enthusiasm and excitement in shrills towards the heavens. I would later lose my voice. It was the closest and best Pearl Jam concert I had ever seen and Bonnaroo was the main reason for both of those achievements getting accomplished. I will never forget Mike McCreedy wailing on his guitar while he had it suspended behind him facing back stage, playing with his eyes closed. I will never forget how badass Matt Cameron was/is and how he has been the best addition to Pearl Jam courtesy of Soundgarden. His timing and improvisation are just awe inspiring. Ed Ved, Jeff and Stone are the center three though and together reflected what my heart felt throughout their entire THREE HOUR SET. I decided that after that show, I would always try to spend VIP prices to get the best seats for Pearl Jam concerts because I realized that I would go to every Pearl Jam show I could for the rest of my life.

Travis, Mike and I after comparing awesomeness about the concert we just witnessed went back to the mushroom fountain where Chromeo was going on via Sigur Ros who has just started their two-hour set on another stage. I love Sigur Ros, but one thing is certain for that band; they have to play in a conservatory or a concert hall, otherwise the silence in their music just gets raped by the sound of loud annoying people and consumerism and in this case, the sound of other acts in the park. Chromeo was cool, but again my mind was still hard stuck on Pearl Jam. We met up with Brian Scipione and his cool friend, our cool friend Lane who was with us from Seattle. Then we all headed back to the scene of Pearl Jam’s musical ass-whipping to prepare for Kanye “Mutherfucking” West.

I’m won’t lie here, he didn’t come on till 4:30am which pissed A LOT of people off considering he was scheduled to go on at 2:15am. My friends and I who were waiting to see this “production” decided against leaving to see some other acts that we could hear across the park and desperately wanted to experience. They pushed back the time until finally making us wait for about an hour. Chants of “Fuck Kanye” and audible “Boos” could be heard all around. We just waited. Finally, the lights went out and he came on and to Kanye’s credit, what unfolded before our eyes was intense to say the least.
An explosion of lights, sound and a Broadway style production unfolded bEforE us. For the seven our eight songs he played, we were in a trance and the tunes were awesome. Then we noticed the sun coming up and two songs later, it was over. That was it. Some people chose to take the anger and dissatisfaction out on Kanye, cursing his name, others were too tired to say or think anything. I mean, after all, it was about 6:30 in the morning. I chose to blame Bonnaroo and considered that somewhere along the way, the people responsible for putting this whole festival on, in conjunction with Kanye’s Ego, did not take into account the time and energy and precise planning necessary to execute a show of this magnitude. And it turns out I was right. Kanye blogs here on June 24th about the fiasco. Finally the truth comes out. Anyway, we got back to the campgrounds, Mike went to sleep in car, Travis and stayed up briefly and then Travis crashed. I opted to stay up simply because the mornings at these festivals were always the prettiest.

Sunday was brief and used as a day to relax and not go out of our ways to tire ourselves any more than necessary. I caught Death Cab for Cutie and then headed over to the cinema to watch game 5 of the Celtics and Lakers, which was not good.

All and all, Bonnaroo presented us boys with memories that would last a lifetime. Mainly, it felt like an exercise in friendship. It felt like I was forced to “check in” with my close friends whom I’ve know for over 10 years now, some, in the case of Mike Byers, I’ve known since I was five. Oddly enough, it was him I wanted to kill the most. Just kidding, it never came to that on the trip. Everyone knew when our respective buttons were getting pushed too much and when it was time to retire to our “safe” corners. My brother who was annihilated the last night of Bonnaroo had a good time and I’m glad I was with him on his first festival stint. In the end, I think we all came out a little better people, if not as friends, then as individuals.

Things are starting to heat up

2008-06-06T14:00:00.000-05:00

HaHa, you thought I meant the weather, but no. Obviously Obama is the first democratically elected African American to lead the party in the history of the United States, but what you may not have witnessed, was the amazing fist bump shared by Michelle Obama and her man before he spoke to a overwhelmingly elated crowd in St. Paul, MN. The fist bump originating with Bob Marley back in the day is a sign of respect and now, I think, love and you can rest assured it was heard around the world.

It’s hot outside. This week started Austin’s trip into the triple digits for our daytime high temps. Maybe we should switch over to the ol’ Celsius rating. After all, 38 degrees sounds a lot nicer and not nearly as overwhelming as 100 degrees. Thank GOD for air conditioning, which as I’ve been pulled nicely into my 30s, I’ve made sure to take total advantage of relaxing my 30 year old bones in at all times. I try to spend as much time as possible in doors. If and when I do decide to take advantage of being outside, you pretty much guarantee there will be a cold body of water nearby to counteract the effect of the suns radiation on my skin.

Speaking of being 30, …well, I finally turned it.

Bringing up the rear of our little group of friends here in Austin has its perks, but finally the fingers are all pointed at me in jest calling me the old man. Nevertheless, I never pass up an opportunity to turn the fingers around and remind the pointers that they’re just six months closer to being 31. It makes me feel good.

In all honesty, turning 30 feels just like turning 29, or 28 for that matter. I have to assume that turning 31 will be the true test. They call it “the sneak-up” age. As you relax into your 30s feeling like nothing’s changed at all, BOOM, you’re 31, a definite marker in your 30s, and with that your whole mental preparation goes out the window. But whatevs, I’m going with it.

That's me there flying a kite in the really big and beautiful park behind our house.

For my actual 30th birthday (I understand now that everyone celebrates their birthday as a week, especially if your birthday falls on a weekday), my friends and family went out to Mars restaurant on South Congress for great food and indelibly, memorable wine. I asked my mother to join me the Sunday evening before my Tuesday dinner because I got a message from her on my voice mail earlier in the day while I was at work that sounded morose. She made mention of how she was driving down from her weekend retreat and that she was sick as a dog, and that she was driving through Austin and wanted to meet up with me before my 30th birthday. As she got around to the last part of the message, I could hear starting to break down into tears and, like in perfect Chris Shea fashion, I freaked out. I’ve never been able to deal with the women in my life crying. It paralyzes me into inaction and I can find no sympathy in my heart as my logical/rational mind takes over. So I called her and told her to come to dinner with me as Bryan, my brother was already planning on coming up as well. She seemed to be more disturbed at my turning 30 than I could ever hope to be, so OF COURSE she should come to dinner. It was a good time with great food and wine shared by everyone. I honestly couldn’t have asked for it to be more perfect.

I went over to the restaurant I will soon be the bar manager of to have a few sips of Jameson 12yr Irish whiskey after Mom had left to return to San Antonio and the drinking progressed into the evening.

I don’t think I had been that intoxicated since I was 20, but fuck it, it’d been long enough, it will probably never happen again. The evening was great, except for the Spurs losing to the Lakers and I will never forget the year I turned 30. How could I?

Oh, here's me discovering a new species of party inside an atom. No matter what state of mind I'm in, there's always time for science!!!

Did I mention that Travis and my friend Adriene Mishler got together and threw me a surprise party in my backyard? YEAH! So many face were there to smile and there were other’s that weren’t, one’s that have moved on to other states in the US. I had just gotten back from playing sloshball. Essentially, sloshball is kickball, but there is a keg on third base and when you get to third base, you cannot leave to go home until you’ve drank en entire beer from the keg. Yeah, so you can see where the sloshing comes into play. There are other rules, special to the game (for instance, one handed catches mean an automatic drink and out for the kicker), but for the most part it’s hardcore athleticism meets hardcore drinking. Anyway, I had played TWO games before getting home Sunday evening to see everyone in my backyard yelling surprise at me. I couldn’t believe it. I sort of knew it was going to happen, but still genuinely surprised. I may have even had a little sob to myself somewhere.

Suffice it to say, I really didn’t drink too much more that evening as we sat next to the radio and listened to the Spurs on the radio beat the Lakers. The birthday celebration carried on through the week, but only with boring things that older people do, like watch movies and see friends. For the most part, it was enjoyable and memorable.

As the work week presses on, my friends and I, including my brother or more than likely preparing, both mentally and physically for our road trip to Manchester, Tennessee, where we will all be attending the Bonnaroo Art and Music festival for four days.

This involves, renting a big, but green van to carry us to Memphis for one night, then onto Nashville for an evening, then onto Manchester with our camping gear in hand four days of music and fun. It has been sort of testy lately to be honest with several friends trying to exert control over the planning of this festival. We have a few newbies to the festival circuit like my brother and my friend Mike. They don’t know what to expect, but I’ve assured them both that they will have a grand time, if they can just relax and flow into it.

Other than that, there’s nothing too new to report. I was offered salary the other day to become the bar manager of Opal Divine’s, an Austin-central restaurant that was established in 2000. I am simultaneously thrilled to be making good money again, but not-so-thrilled that my time and energy will be gobbled up primarily by this job with not so much time to play in the film and theatre world. We’ll see how it goes. I’ll keep you posted.

On the other side of the world, in a hemisphere, far, far away, my buddy Scott Henderson was made curator, more or less, of the Sydney Film Festival website in Sydney, Australia. I believe the red carpet, opening night gala was just the other day, or two. I keep forgetting, that in Australia, it’s already the next day there. We chat from time to time online where I ask him what the future is like and he tells me how he wishes he could come back to the past where I’m living. It’s all pretty funny. Anyway, he asked me to write a 1,000-word article about a movie that’s playing there on a panel of other American films. The film called, Respect Yourself: The Stax Records Story shows on the 21st of June and I will make sure to link my article as soon as he posts it. There are some podcasts he’s doing also for the website and those can be easily seen here. Watch them, because they're amazing and funny.

On a final note, amidst all the arguing and control-clutching that’s been going on about our trip to Bonnaroo, a relaxing breathe of fresh air came into our back yard yesterday afternoon in the form of a parliament of owls.

I think they might have been elf owls and I believe it was a whole family because, well, look at the pics, some looked very mature and grown and others looked very baby-like and super cute. Either way, I considered it a good omen and suggested to my friends who were witnessing the appearance of each of these owls as we spotted them, that their arrival was a symbol that meant the trip we were about to share would be as amazing as the existence of the creatures in our tree. I don’t know about anyone else, but whenever I see an owl, I sort of become paralyzed by the great respect I have for them and they stare at you with their big binocular-visioned eyes. It’s a thrilling feeling when you share the gaze of such a glorious animal. I have thought that owls always symbolize wisdom as well, an appropriate creature to visit me right after I turn 30. It felt good.

Oh yeah, don't want to jinx it, but I finally quit smoking too. Take that 30!

The Future is Now

2008-02-27T21:14:00.001-06:00

If you google the above phrase, "The Future is Now," and press enter, the first entry you will most certainly come across is a link to an article written by William Greider for The Nation, on June 8th, 2006. Before you ask, yes, The Nation is a left-leaning paper, but keep in mind that it IS the oldest published weekly magazine in the United States and it’s mission statement is as follows:

According to The Nation's founding prospectus of 1865, "The Nation will not be the organ of any party, sect, or body. It will, on the contrary, make an earnest effort to bring to the discussion of political and social questions a really critical spirit, and to wage war upon the vices of violence, exaggeration and misrepresentation by which so much of the political writing of the day is marred."

In the article, Mr. Greider, a prominent political journalist and author with more than 35 years experience, goes on to talk not only about the necessity of change in our economy, but how to untangle the current mess our country has stagnated under for the last 8 years, if not the last 27 years when Ronald Regan took office. To be totally honest, I googled “The Future is Now,” because I was playing around with the name for a title to this very ambitious and lengthy blog entry. I would seriously suggest that everyone who takes the time to read this blog, stops, and reads Mr. Greider’s article from beginning to end, which gives a detailed account of our economy, it’s history, and a possible shift for the future leaders to initiate.

Of course, future leaders are exactly why this blog entry comes to me today. As our country propels itself forward to November 4th, when we will very certainly elect a new Presidential leader, one has to absorb various slogans, policies, promises, commercials, debates and the like. As John McCain sits on cruise control to November, a war of words and promises is being waged inside the Democratic Party as Barack Obama, the Junior Senator from Illinois competes with the Junior Senator from New York, Hillary Clinton, for what is essentially history in the making. It would seem for the moment, that Barack Obama has garnered a lead in the contest for the Democratic Presidential Nomination. His charisma and confidence are starting to lay roots as witnessed by myself and friends at a rally on the steps of the Texas state Capitol building last Friday evening. Now, for the first time in a while, Texas and Ohio will have a big say in who continues on to the final political joust when our primary election occurs on March 4th. For Obama, it would seal the deal, pushing him forward to spar with McCain. For Clinton, it’s precisely what she needs to jump-start her campaign and get her back into this race. If she loses Ohio and Texas, she will more than likely withdraw as the superdelegates follow the momentum on the scale to Obama’s corner. My largest concerns come from the fact that the Democrats appear divided in a time where, if they are looking to fill the oval office, they need to stand united, but I suppose this HAS to happen, we HAVE to choose one candidate. Never mind that Clinton, Obama, and Edwards ran almost similar campaigns. Never mind that during the debate last Thursday night, on the campus of the University of Texas, they debated their almost-identical health plans with great vigor. In a time like this, how can one actually decide which candidate to vote for? How can one distinguish two people running under almost identical banners? This is a great question and for me it was answered last Friday night when I watched and listened with great interest and anticipation to the discourse presented by Barack Obama. My feelings of support and adoration started the first time I heard him speak at the Democratic National Convention in 2004 in support of John Kerry. The passion and truth that emanated from his person on my television sparked an involuntary reaction in me to cease and dissist everything I was doing at that moment to watch.

I hung onto every word that came out of his mouth and sat in amazement of how eloquent this politician sounded. It wakes up that intellectual part of you that feels as if it’s been asleep for so long and instantly recalls all the really wonderful and amazing people that have influenced your life and made an impact, etched in stone. It was that feeling that carried me all the way to today and will most certainly carry me to the polls to vote for him.

Now sure, you can start up the argument that words from politicians can be hollow and that actions indeed speak louder than, and we’ve certainly had our fair share of empty promises in the past. OBVIOUSLY, they’re trying to get elected and so there’s a bit of grandstanding, kissing babies, and making damn well certain they look and sound squeaky clean to the hearts and minds of the American public, but you have to look past that. You have to look past the cameras, the lights, the speeches and the media. This man presents himself in a light that I have never witnessed during my lifetime and only heard about in books and films, that told stories of a man that lived when my parents were my age. John F. Kennedy was young, ambitious, and he had a lot of ideas about how to fix what was wrong with the country. Now if you’re reading this and are naïve enough to think there’s nothing wrong with this country and that it’s perfectly fine the way it is, you can stop reading now. I’ll get back to you when Armageddon happens and make sure to shake your hand for doing nothing to change our course when we still had a chance. Barack Obama, like JFK has slowly moved closer and closer to becoming an icon of American hopes and aspirations. He is the embodiment of the American Dream, coming from nothing, working hard throughout his life, and achieving greatness; and he’s YOUNG. That’s right, if elected, Obama would be the third youngest President elected to office and something about that really excites me. His biggest critics will argue that he lacks experience in almost every arena of government. Well, to that I’d say, when did 20 years of public service get equated to “not enough experience?” Senator Obama made an amusing anecdote at the rally last Friday about how it seems everyone who thinks he lacks the necessary experience suggests he should wait until he’s older, until he looks and sounds more like the politicians who are currently occupying the offices of the executive branch today. They say that then, and only then he’ll sound more like them, look more like them, and more than likely, do his part to maintain the status quo. HELLO, this is why I’m all in favor of getting him in there right now before he becomes entangled and tied down by the lies perpetrated by the very shady bureaucracy that is our current administration. It is precisely why I believe Hillary Clinton is the wrong person for the job. She has been wrapped up in politics ever since the day her husband became Governor of Arkansas in 1979. Don’t get me wrong, I like her and being in politics for so long definitely lends her to experience, but it is that longevity in the political arena that I think would lead her to make decisions similar to the ones we’ve seen during the last eight years. Experience, as everyone seems to define in their heads, may not be the best deciding factor for choosing the best candidate. Besides, a long time ago, I made a prediction that the next president would ultimately be known by history as a “martyr” president. This prediction is pulled from a book given to me by mother a few years back called the Sanctus Germanus Prophecies. It lead me to believe that our next elected leader would have to sacrifice his or her term to fix and untangle everything that has gone wrong (and there’s a lot) during the last eight years. Then, in 2012, when the Age of Aquarius comes to be, we will enter into a new era where a “divine” balance is achieved and finally a woman will be elected President. I’m just as excited for either candidate to become President during my lifetime. The gift of witnessing that history of change is exhilarating and anyone present should count himself or herself lucky. However, it would seem, to me anyway, that change in this country, for the better, has always been predicated on the presence of a young mind and a willingness to stand up for what you believe in, against all odds, and sometimes, in the face of great adversity. It has become nothing shy of apparent to me that Barack Obama possesses not only the willingness to speak out for change against the paradigm of our static government (voted against the war in Iraq), but that he also possesses the audacity to perpetuate hope in a time when it feels like there is very little left amongst Americans.

I’ll be the first to admit, that I feel more involved in this election than in any in my entire life. I’ve made certain that if I am going to give my support to the Junior Senator from Illinois and write passionately as to why I think he’s the best option, than it is MY responsibility to have looked at every speech he’s made, goggled every action he’s taken during the course of his tenure in public office, know his biography back and forth, and I must say, that at this point, there has been nothing to make me believe that he is the wrong choice for President. In fact, to be honest, most of the arguments I have encountered with friends and colleagues about his worthiness aren’t even balanced, due to the fact that so many people I talk to have not taken the time to read about who he is and where he comes from. Advocating citizens of the United States to become more actively involved in their government is one of the main points Senator Obama made last Friday night. I have talked to people that have not taken the time to read about his ideas concerning universal health care, or trying to restore the middle class, or even his ambitious attempts to create “green” jobs that would cut our dependency on oil we’re spending billions of dollars and thousands of live on, while simultaneously restoring middle class jobs. No one knows about a bi-partisan bill sponsored by Senator Obama called the Federal Funding Accountability and Transparency Act, which is essentially a way for Americans to google the national budget and actually see where all the money is flowing, thus taking a larger role in how are government operates and keeping so called “earmarks” in check.

The man has great ideas and as I stood and listened to him, with the state capitol building, looming behind him, I knew, I knew it in my heart that this man needs to be given a chance to unite us, to show us why he's worked so hard his entire life just to get to this point, and then lead us onto a new page of American history. I feel that he will fan the flame of hope and embolden every American to lead, and thusly live better lives. The only hesitation any one can genuinely claim to have about voting for him will undoubtedly lead to a foundation of fear that has been building inside all of us ever since 9/11 and has been strengthened by the disparaging fear tactics of the Bush Administration and even more so, members of the right. We don’t have to be fearful or disinclined to ask questions anymore. In the future, we can all be brave together and have the audacity to hope again as Barack Obama opens the cob-webbed doors of government to it's people once more. I believe the future is now.

I'm sure at this point most people have a clear idea of who they will be casting their vote for and I didn't write this blog entry to sway voters one way or the next. I just wanted to express the feelings and ideas of one Christopher Shea in the year 2008. Don't forget to vote and try not to be too hasty in passing judgement. Consider all the facts and then listen to your heart. I'm listening to mine.

Oh yeah, did I mention I predicted the New York Giants would win the Superbowl???

Hardcore great in '08'

SO, This is the New Year

2008-01-02T19:13:00.000-06:00

So it’s officially 2008 and to commiserate the absence of 2007, I organized a friendly football game in Zilker Park. It was a beautiful day, the skies were blue, the air was brisk and seven of my friends showed up to play ball. We found city cones nearby from the annual trail of lights leftovers and used them for end zone markers. We played 15-minute quarters, four against four, two-below. My team lost in the end due to a sloppy defensive play by one Jeff Mills, who by the way is leaving tomorrow to start a new adventure in New York City. After the game was done and said, we paused for a photo in front of a Christmas tree depository close to our field. We felt good and most importantly, alive, as our aging bodies were starting to remind us of the necessary upkeep, …or else. All in all, a great way to start 2008.

It’s been about a month now since Scott Henderson has left our humble house here on Fieldcrest Dr. for his native Continent across the Atlantic and his absence has made ripples in our lives.

He had become a very special glue during his tenure in Austin. Not just Elmers, or the kind that you use to stick something together only to have your hopes crushed a moment later as it doesn’t hold, BUT, rather, he had a special type of adhesive that reached into the lives of the people living at 1103 Fieldcrest as well as all my friends that soon would become Scott’s friends as well. He was a conduit for me, personally, to reach further into the lives of friends who I had not seen for a spell and also to start new relationships with people he met through my friends. He was a breath of fresh air for Travis and I who have lived together here in Austin since 2000. More importantly, he brought an outside, worldly perspective (not because he’s from England, but because the boy’s a traveler like us), that he would frequently shine on the circumstances of our lives, allowing for a new way for events to be seen. For that, I am eternally grateful. He of course will be missed, but definitely not forgotten, and hopefully, soon, be visited upon by myself.

Brian Scipione who is a man of many intelligences has been spending the last year of his life on the other side of the world in a little city you may of heard of called Dubai.
The amount of excessive spending that occurs in this little neck of the desert is laughable. We’re talking giant pillars of marble, ginormous indoor ski lodges, soccer schools taught by Pele, and a plethora of immigrants all present for the acquisition of wealth. This is where the money makes the cup runneth over. Brian has been there working in the field of medicine, exploring, adventuring, finding himself. Now he’s returned to Austin to fill the hole left by Scott and he’s a welcomed addition to our little Fieldcrest bubble.

“The Assumption,” the play I was in for three weeks before Christmas was a hit, …again. We got amazing reviews, had producers from different cities come see it, and on the last few nights, we wound up turning at the bare minimum, 30 people away each night. It’s funny, when we first started going through the motions of a play we did last year, I wasn’t too interested and in fact, I’m not sure I wanted to do it again. Jeff Mills and some other close friends convinced me to do it and I’m glad it happened because during the show’s run, I felt that old familiar feeling of family with the thespians around me once again. People smiled, we partied, laughed and I think we were all reminded of what life was really about. For us, once again, it was about being rednecks that know Kung-Fu and drink Miller High Life, who actually sponsored the show this time and delivered 75 cases of beer. Go Assumption.

Looking back at 2007, I remember being present at quite a few weddings and seeing some new babies, but not really any funerals, which I suppose is good. Even though there seems to be rough waters ahead in the form of my ailing Grandmother, my super/over/mega stressed mother, and my own personal ambitions giving way to financial gain, I feel like 2008 is going to be amazing for many people, including myself. SO, that being said, I’ve adopted the slogan “HARDCORE GREAT IN 08!” I think it’s a winner and really sends the message of how well everyone will be in 08 all the way to the bank and then back home, to be tucked into nice warm sheets.

I’m really struggling with cutting my hair right now. I went out and dropped some dough on a pretty sweet beard trimmer. Now that my facial hair is in check, I want to be certain that my hair-hair is too. The length I’m experiencing now is like nothing I’ve ever had in my entire life. The closest I’ve ever gotten to growing it this long was back in high school, and even then, it was several inches shorter. Before you start yelling ‘cut it off’ and lighting your torches, consider this, (and ladies, you probably already have) a connection has been formed between my hair and I. It’s not just kelp on my scalp, it’s a timeline of events that have played out over the last year and a half, …it’s my life. I will cut it off and more than likely mail the tied up tail to my mother, but when I look in the mirror, the thought of cutting it off becomes harder and harder every day simply because I know the one hard truth that it will never be this way again, …ever, …till the end of my life. Choices.

Anyway, I finally got my cell phone turned back on and although I’m glad to return to the cell phone community, I’m not sure why I’m paying $70 dollars a month and almost feel bad for the people around me with IPhones that are paying a bone for they’re super-duper services. It’s funny the things you really don’t need in life and how we justify and rationalize their necessity to ourselves every day.

In a bit, I'll be leaving to say goodbye to yet another close friend as he embarks on his way to New York. He really is like a brother in every since of the word and I couldn't have carved out a place to live in Austin without him. He makes me laugh like no one else and is one of the most generous persons I know. This one's for you Jeff Mills. Godspeed.

The Big Easy Fall

2007-11-06T02:12:00.000-06:00

Oh my God, has it really been so long since I’ve made an attempt at updating my blog??? To all the wonderful people who peep my blog from time to time, let me apologize. I don’t have any excuse other than to say I’ve been busy having fun as the weather here in Austin has gotten cooler and cooler. There is something about the way atoms start to move slower and slower around us as the air gets cooler that sends me smiling out into the world. I’ve always been more of a lover of the slightly cooler day then the perfectly warm one. Autumn is truly my most favorite time of the year. Finally, relief from blazing hot days comes in the form of warmer clothes, red leaves (which according to my friend Liza in Portland, is unexplainable, scientifically), and of course a melee of holiday events all starting off this year with the visit of some good friends from the UK.
Scott Henderson, my current roommate and good friend, had his lovely sisters; Kay and Robyn come over from England for the Austin City Limits music festival.

Another English gem in the form of Christopher Tilly, a film journalist from the UK, also came to visit for his official second time, but his journey was more of four-month long surprise I had arranged to spring on Scott and Travis. Here he is, well, being Tilly.

Chris and I have really become close over the last few months in a similar way that Scott and I did before he decided to come live with us here in Austin. Even though Chris and I are separated by 3,000 miles of water, we still manage to write to each other fairly frequently and update each other about the events taking place in our respective lives. Chris and I are shown here enjoying a good read on my bed during some down time. Chris is clearly enamored by my book, The Beach, by Alex Garland.

We tried to show the girls and Chris as much of the city as possible during their stay and I think they, like most people, had their expectations blown out of the water as they very clearly fell in Love with Austin. Here we are sitting outside the new and improved coffee shop, the Spiderhouse just north of the UT campus.

They were lucky enough to enjoy a hike and swim on the Greenbelt during one of the last warmer days Austin had to offer. Chris took a pensive posture on a rock and thought about the surrounding beauty while Robyn, Kay and myself swam, laughed and explored the rocky surfaces nearby.

The Austin City Limits festival had its highlights for certain, but for me, the real highlight was having such amazing and wonderful human beings as our guests. When they left, Travis, Scott and myself went through a 48-hour period of “re-adjusting” to what felt like a sad, empty house. I’m really glad I got to meet Scott’s sisters and even more so that I got to hang with Chris Tilly again. They will, of course, be missed.

Oh yeah, and here’s Scott getting ready for a night on the town. OR, is he getting ready to be Mr. July? You decide.

Anywho, time goes on and through the remainder of the month of September, I sort of fell into a hole, got lost, and spent some time trying to figure things out. It didn’t really occur to me that my boss at work had basically been breaking me down morally since May like he’d done to most the employees at Opal Divine’s. One day, he tried to send me home for a week and told me to call him when “I felt like working again.” I told him to tell the owner to expect to hear from me. Then, I went home and pulled up an old five page letter I’d written a few months earlier basically slamming my General Manager for failing to manage the store and causing the entire staff to become disgruntled, and I sent it to the owner. If there was one thing I learned during my 6 years of management experience, it was that you need to know how to talk to people with grace, kindness, respect, and understanding. Unfortunately for my General Manager, he lacked all these things. I suppose it’s not his fault since he was basically promoted from a cooking position to overseeing an entire store. Nevertheless, I sent in my strongly worded, literary masterpiece to the head hanchos and the next day I got a phone call from the owner informing me that, well, let’s call him ‘Dave,’ no longer worked there and that he’d like me to come in and resume my work. I can’t say that I alone am responsible for his demise. There had been a history of abuse and mistreatment that had already been documented. Not to mention the fact he had pretty much shot himself in the foot already. My letter was just the icing on the cake after months of carefully sizing up the situation and planning. When I returned to my job the next day, I was greeted by applause from my co-workers and warm smiles. Suffice it to say, the moral at work has improved immensely and people seem much happier. This was to be my greatest accomplishment for September and although the employees loved me for it, I still felt like I was living in a hole. I didn’t really want to hang out, or go out, or spend money and became a homebody of sorts. I feared I had become depressed and decided a poker game at our place was a good way of sorting things out. I invited several people all from different circles of friends (a new one for me). I think this was a pretty big hand that my good buddy Matt Reeb took home. I have yet to beat Matt at poker, although I DID come in second that night.

Most of October I spent saving up for monthly bills and our trip to New Orleans for the Voodoo Festival at the end of the month. Yet another festival poster for our living room wall which now bears witness to our travels and adventures together. My brother turned 25 and although I went down to visit him briefly in San Antonio, I couldn’t stay long enough because of work and had to return right away. He’s been living with his girlfriend Michelle for sometime now in north San Antonio and right around the time he turned 25, I think they celebrated their three-year anniversary. Eeks!! The last time I talked to Michelle was, …well, to be honest, I don’t think I can remember the last time. Maybe April, around Easter was the last time I saw her. I suppose he’s happy in his relationship, but the night before his birthday, we went out for some drinks and I asked him how his friends are. He replied by saying he doesn’t know because he never sees them and that he really doesn’t even really have friends anymore. I thought to myself, “how sad.” Is this the way the best relationships, the ones that work, are suppose to go. I don’t know if it was San Antonio, the absence of a girlfriend for myself, or what my 25 year old brother had just told me that left a bad taste in my mouth, but once again, I was left with a flighty feeling to return to Austin. By the next morning, I was home.

So now, this play I was in last year is apparently going to be “re-mounted.” It’s called The Assumption and is basically a loose adaptation of Shakespeare’s Hamlet, but instead the Kingdom of Denmark has been replaced by a used tire farm with white trash, paint-huffing, kung-fu fighting, singing, white-trash.

We’re currently trying to get a sponsorship from Miller High Life, which we drank a shitload of last year. It was a very fun play to do and got some great reviews from critics along with a handful of awards.

Then there was the 2007 Voodoo Festival in New Orleans’ City Park. It was the first year it was a three-day festival. A while back, sometime in July, Travis thought it would be a great idea to get Scott a ticket along with lodging in the Crescent City for his birthday gift. You see, we saw Rage Against the Machine at the Coachella Music Festival back in May. It was their first performance in 7 years and a big deal for all of us. Their show was electric and caused riots at the campground where we were staying. (read blog below) So a chance to see them again was to good to pass up, especially since the tickets were pretty much a third of what a three-day pass at Coachella cost. I had been to New Orleans, but not since Katrina hit in 2005. On the outside it seemed like a great idea. Scott could explore another American city, we could hear some great music, and we could glimpse, first hand at a city absolutely devastated by a category 5 hurricane.

We left Austin early afternoon on Thursday and traveled over 500 miles in less than 7 hours thanks to some “efficient” driving on my part. Pretty sweet-ass if you ask me. I did the drive all alone as Scott and Travis slept in the car. We got to New Orleans about 11:30 pm or so and called our good friends Jeff and Laura who were staying in a motel on Canal Street and have sort of become festival traveling buddies.

You see, in our excitement, Travis and I didn’t realize we would need a place to stay the night before the festival started, so Jeff and Laura very kindly allowed us to pass out on their floor for the night. It was freezing and uncomfortable, but free and that was good enough for me. The n ext morning, we awoke, stiff, cold, and tired. We drove down to the Hilton on Gravier Street, which was three blocks from Bourbon Street and proceeded to check in. Once we got our room, we pretty much changed clothes, showered and headed out to Canal Street where we took a trolley four miles north to beautiful City Park, where the festival was already underway.

The festival was good. There weren’t too many people in attendance at the festival, which made for a very intimate setting. Also, most of the attendees seemed to be travelers from the surrounding states. Rage Against the Machine who had only performed three other times (including their reunion show at Coachella, which we saw) were about to make their fourth appearance Friday night. Unfortunately for me I decided to try the festival gumbo early only to find out later that my bowl was probably, somehow covered in un-clean, stomach-churning, bacteria. Right when Rage came on, I got one of the worst headaches I’ve ever had and Tom Morello’s hardcore guitar playing was basically assaulting my senses forcing an aneurism type pain into my head. I told Scott and Travis that I was going to leave right around the time Rage was doing their last song (Killing in the Name, of course) and we bounced.

I had my head down the whole time on the bus back and when the person sitting next to me asked if I was okay, I knew what he meant. Realizing that trying to explain my condition, that I was undergoing food poisoning, starting with a head-shattering headache, and probably to be followed by some hardcore puking, didn’t seem like an option. So I told the gentleman, “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Long story short, we got off the bus and I sent Travis and Scott to retrieve advil and water. I bolted for the hotel right when I felt what can only be described as my stomach flipping upside down with a side of esophageal shivering and sure enough, I ralphed between two parked. People passed by passing judgment about how drunk I was, but I had only wished that was the case. Suffice it to say, I was out for the rest of the night, but I felt better after I got rid of the gumbo thank you.

Saturday night was huge. After a great day at the festival, with blowout acts like Ghostland Observatory,

the boys and I headed down to Bourbon Street. It was around one in the morning when we got out there and roughly six in the morning when Scott and I foolishly stumbled home from the casino. Travis had expressed true wisdom earlier and went back to the hotel before Scott and I made our way to the Casino. Here’s a few on Bourbon Street.

Sunday was, well, have spent. After waking up, wayyyyyyy late, we caught like three acts at the festival and returned to the hotel for an earlier night watching/buying “The Bourne Ultimatum.” We really were out of money. We’d spent a lot the night before with Scott and I losing more at the mercy of the Roulette wheel. The next day, Monday, we had begines and coffee at Café Du Monde on Decatur and did a bit of site seeing. I’m almost certain, that if the weather had been anything shorter than beautiful, we would of shot ourselves, but it was absolutely gorgeous, especially when viewing the Mississippi River.

After some brief sightseeing including this beautiful church…

We headed back to Austin, thus concluding Voodoo Fest weekend. Oh yeah, this picture was taken for Scott, so that he can always remember that he’s a grown man.

Shea philosophy 101: think about it, and next time, don’t get caught.

More to come, ...promise

The Passive-Agressive, Summer, Solstice

2007-06-15T21:51:00.000-05:00

In just about one week, in fact, in exactly one week, the summer solstice will be upon us. It will be the longest (not hottest mind you) day of the year. It comes at a very reflective time for my mates and me at the moment (above: Scott and Travis take a meditative smoke break in the front lawn around 6am under the tree we all dream under, ...wired).

The heat thus far into the Texas summer has left us able to move slowly across our household terrain in an attempt to stay cool. It reminds me of a Twilight Episode I saw as a kid where you watched an entire community wait and suffer the heat caused by a sun that was getting closer and closer to Earth. Getting out of the house to go to work where there are giant freezers has become a highlight despite my becoming tired and fed-up with my current serving position at Opal Divine's.

A while back, a very good friend of mine Adrienne Mishler threw a party for everyone we knew that was a Gemini. This of course included me and several other friends who were all in attendance for the evening. I invited Scotty, Travis, Mike and my stepsister for a night of drinking and mingling. It was fun and the party went all night. Mike eventually left. Travis got belligerent and headed home after saying some disruptive words to me. Scotty and I went the whole night and into the morning.

It was great. When Scotty and I did get home, Travis told us he'd had a conversation with a ghost that told him "life is good," and then continued down the street with his dog and chains. I found out today during a disappointing day at the disc golf course that the "ghost" as Travis called him was actually an inebriated homeless man who walks his dog through our neighborhood. After that, we had to call the Sci-Fi channel and tell them we needed to withdrawal Travis' application to their show "Ghost Hunters." Score one for Travis.

On a really positive note, the San Antonio Spurs were crowned champions last night after sweeping the Cleveland Cavs in four games in Cleveland. It was good to see and while Tony Parker, the first European to win MVP, accepted his trophy and called out Michael Finley for kicking ass all season, I thought to myself about what I was doing this time last year. Then it hit me, I was getting this thing cut out of me, for not even close to free, but definitely not $18,000 dollars.

Go Spurs Go

ANywho, Travis has already started crying about his desire to use the Air Conditioning system and Scott who lives in the room with the A/C unit right outside his window has told him ‘no.’ I’m sort of ambivalent about the whole thing. I know that our "real" battle with the hot weather will come in the months following this one with August potentially threatening our lives. I'm personally not ready to start shelling out dollars because Travis can't take clammy skin or sweat on his back. Scotty who has decided he'd rather not have the A/C unit outside his window running whilst he sleeps will more than likely reverse his position when it starts getting really hot. Sooner or later we'll need it, right now though, it just doesn't quite seem like a necessesity.

Until then, Travis can take cold showers and fall asleep like an old man in his fake leather chair and get some much-deserved rest. Maybe he could even catch a few flies with that open mouth, or, ... hmmmmmmm...

In the coming weeks: Wolfmother at Stubb's, FCC training for radio, more Gemini parties, the purchase of ACL single day tix (since three day passes are now sold out), and an old friend/lover of mine will come down to where she got her undergraduate degree with some much, missed, mutual friends for her unisex bachelorette party.

Oh, and by the way, my "check engine" light went off. Score!

Check Engine, one year left...

2007-05-28T15:33:00.000-05:00

So it seems only fitting that on the day of my 29th birthday, my check engine light would come on, and stay on. Is this indeed a message from God? A way of my car telling me that we're both getting old? Or did a raindrop from the previous onslaught of thunderstorms make it's way past Battlestar Tealactica's metallic, perimeter defenses and manage to seep into it's main computer? Either way, it will require some attention at some point I'm sure. In saying that, I wonder if I require some attention, some maintenance.

My birthday started early this year. Eight in the AM to be exact. I decided to work since rent was right around the corner and I knew that I needed to make some more dough before the end of the month. It was like any other Sunday morning. Woke up, dazed from the previous night of Asian Karaoke, alcohol still coursing through my body. I didn't talk to anyone between the hours of 9am and 10am at work. The only audible sound they received sounded something like Peter Boyle playing the monster in "Young Frankenstein." "Puttin' on the RITTTZZZZZZZ!!!!"

My mother rang at 10:54 am, which is the exact moment, 29 years ago, when I went down that non-memorable, slip-and-slide called the vaginal canal and entered this crazy world. She has been very sweet and I love her more than life itself. If there is one thought that rummages around in my head on the day of my birth, it is how I would not even be around at 29 if the strong woman I call 'mom' had not reared me and made me the lovely man I am today. Thanks mom!

I went home after work and slept for an hour or so and then woke up to news that Travis had planned on taking me out to Vespaio for my birthday. AWESOME!!! Vespaio is a very lovely and unpretentious Italian food restaurant on South Congress that has most delicious food and wine. In fact, it was there that my long-term love affair with a bottle of wine called Ripassa began. I LOVE it and recommend it to anyone who considers themselves attracted to red wine. The wait was long, but worth it, especially since we got the wine flowing the moment we walked through the door. Travis Seewald, you're a great man and a most loyal and honorable friend. Thank you!

So there I was sitting, enjoying dinner with the four people I would consider my closest friends. I had the duck, as did Travis and Mr. Reeb. Mike went out on a limb and ordered ravioli stuffed with veal and then when it came to the table, he proceeded to complain about the portions he received. I just couldn't get over the fact that he was eating veal. Ugh! (On so many levels) I think we even started talking about all the horrible things that happens to veal while he was eating it in a hope to make him feel guilty. It didn't work and he just kept making comments about how his draft Moretti tasted like Lone Star. Oh Michael, what are we going to do with you and your sexy, tight white jeans? The answer to that is, don't take him to the Speakeasy Terrace overlooking the warehouse district. There was an average DJ spinning on the roof while Austin burnouts, Vallejo were playing downstairs. I guess since it was Memorial Day the next day, everyone was out for a night on the town. Between Mike, Scott, Travis and myself, we dropped 50 bucks just to get in the door and have A shiner (which I think taste like shit). Lame. So we proceeded to the Elephant Room for some low-key jazz and less extortionate prices. (By the way, heard that word for the first time the other day, I love it. ["Extortionate"])

We got to the Elephant Room and various peeps started showing up as we proceeded to get hammered. I believe the pitcher count was at 7 or 8 by the end of the night. Then it was back to my new pad for some after-hours drinking. That's when the circus came to town. I took my socks off and got comfy.

Travis was curiously quiet the whole evening. I think his mind may be elsewhere. He and Scott spent the evenings prior to my birthday at a party or two, where the rules were nonExistant and the gloves had come off. Plus he posed a very interesting question to me at the dinner table earlier that evening. He said, "You know, I just don't get it, Scott and I were talking the other day about the 30s dating scene and I just don't get it, I don't know how you do that." I thought about it for a second and then I thought about the fact that Travis (who really never has had any problems whatsoever with the "Dating" scene) and I broke it down in my mind. I think his question had a wider scope to it though. I don't think he was just asking about dating per se, I think he was wanting to know how to do the other half, how to close the deal and find those runway lights to what some (mainly me) might call a "relationship landing." For this, I had no real answer; I didn't even have a funny fake one to fill in the silence that came after his question. I realized at that moment, that finding someone, finding the "right" one would be an uphill battle and that all the people who had started to settle with a significant other (Mike and Matt, for instance) could officially count themselves lucky. Or could they? I mean after all, we bachelors live such a different lifestyle than the people who have been in committed relationships for years. Maybe we're just ready for something new. Is it a biological desire to become monogamous with another or is it just a product of the commercial/traditional lives/culture we've been raised into? Maybe it's a little of both. Like many things, I'm still not sure.

The last time I tried to ask a girl out to dinner, (a proper date) the conversation quickly turned how she thought it would be better if we didn't. This had come after a week of mostly successful and non-presumptuous meetings and dates. I was like, "not go to dinner?" And she replied, "No, like continue dating." And there it was, again, that fear that comes along with putting yourself out there, making yourself vulnerable. I sensed it in her voice then and in the week prior to that moment, as well as in myself. The attraction for each other was still present, I knew that because we continued dating after the dark pause we had, and we both continued to talk via phone, email and (the best) in person. More on all this later though. This was only one thought swirling around in my head that night as my birthday was coming to a close.

Back at the house Travis seemed to be in better spirits while I was almost completely pissed.

We had a giant sleep over because several people were just too intoxicato to drive home. The night ended sweetly with wet torrential rains coming down. This is the best soundtrack to fall into sleep to. And that's what I did, ...sort of. But what happens at Casa de SheaSeewaldHenderson, stays at Casa de SheaSeewaldHenderson.

One thing is certain, at some point in the near future, I'm going to have to do something about that check engine light that just came on. I'm sure it will have a price associated with it as most choices in life do. All we can do is hope for the best.

Settling in... Part 2

2007-05-24T23:31:00.000-05:00

Upon reading the rest of what I can only call my "blog opener", you will be privy to all sorts of colorful information about me and the people in my life.

When we last left you, a strange, but curiously ballsy Australian named Joel was using some spare time during his visit to explore how exactly gravity and inertia work in the United States, specifically, South Austin Texas. Yes, we had finally secured the house we'd all been wanting, shelled out the necessary fundage to get there and now it was only a matter of moving our belongings out and cleaning up the mess.

There wasn't much of a mess left as we had only occupied the space for a measly six months, but later on we would come to find out that our landlady needed most of our deposit to "clean" the entire apartment. Thank you Tonia, you overpricing, speakerphone-only-using, unavailable, twat of a landlady. Upon getting everything lumped into our new three bedroom house at 1103 Fieldcrest Drive, we then started the arduous task of packing for what has been called the biggest music festival in the West, ...Coachella.

Since Scotty was just starting on his third week of snowboarding in the beautiful mountains of Lake Tahoe, it was up to Travis, myself, and what was left of Joel after his abrupt encounter with the stone pylon outside our old apartment. It wasn't too difficult, but let's face it, I still had a job, an internship and a theatre company that were all asking for me to be present during all of this. It didn't take too long and before you know, the carport my mother had brought up to Austin, was fastened to the roof, the bags were packed and the gas tank was full. We were ready.

So we set off on Wednesday from Austin around 3pm on what could only be described as the LONGEST drive ever. We had company, another car, filled with friends of old was caravanning with us out there along interstate highway 10. We practiced many driving essentials including, but not limited to: codenames (We were car Ramrod/Battlestar Tealactica and they were White Lighting, Cherry Thunder, but I always just called them "White Lighting, Cherry Balls), smoking cigarettes, speeding, rocking out, stopping quickly in the strange place between Austin and Cali, and of course trying to stay awake.

There are some sections of this drive that I found completely boring to look at because basically, there's nothing out there, but occasionally, we'd come over a hill and descend into a massive valley with a perimeter of mountains as far away as the eye could see and THAT was gorgeous, especially if it happened around sunset.

Then night came and the "Late Shift" started. I managed to drive my car from Austin all the way to Phoenix, but alas, I could go no further and I had to finally relinquish my vehicle to either Travis, who hasn't operated a motor vehicle in more than a year and a half or Joel, who is from a place where they drive on the other side of the road and also hasn't operated a motor vehicle in some time. Travis would take the helm of my car and Joel grabbed the reigns of the other car in our caravan.

Finally, after 24 hours (including stops) we found ourselves in the desert town of Indio, California on Thursday around 3pm. We had made it. A little worse for wear, but alive and desperate for the fun to begin.

Coachella is an interesting place at first, but once you've been there for two hours, you quickly figure out that the only reason this town exists is to facilitate this festival and that most the people you see there are actually from somewhere else. We began on Thursday by setting up our tents in camping field designated by large letter suspended over the grounds. We were in section C near the large and sometimes loud shower trucks. I guess it was nice having the shower trucks nearby, but as we would come time find out, it didn't matter how many times you showered, you would be sweaty and filthy in less than hour. The heat on every day we were there climb past the 100-degree mark and acted as a thermal alarm clock of sorts.

On Friday the rest of the campers had pretty much moved in and Jeff, Laura (car White Lighting, Cherry Balls), Travis, Joel, myself and a reacquired Scott Henderson (Freshly dropped from Tahoe) were ready for the music that we had been anticipating since February, when we got the tickets.

Coachella in a NUTshell had basically the makings of a great music festival with tooooooo many stiff (and in a lot of ways unreasonable) rules in place that pretty much sucked most the life out of the experience. You can't have this, you can't bring this in, you can't do that, keep walking here, no stopping there, no In and Out of the festival gate to the campground during the day, beer is $7.00, water is $2.00, or you can dive into the trash cans filled with people's refuse and if you were lucky to come up with 10 empty water bottles, you could get ONE new one for yourself. After spending $300 dollars on this experience, we were made to feel like nothing more than cattle. We even had to leave on Saturday to get more ice for our melting rations in our storage tent to keep the water and food cold. If I had known that leaving and coming back was going to be such a clusterfuck, I would have never even given it a second thought. The police and Coachella staff had relatively no information about the festival or goings-on anywhere other than where they were at. For instance, one police officer only seemed to know how to say one thing to us and that was to "turn around and go back the way you came, you're on the wrong side of the grounds." This comes after waiting 45 minutes in the perimeter traffic around the overheated polo field called Coachella with my Air Conditioning relentlessly on high. It was infuriating and totally stressful. The only redeeming quality of the entire festival was the music. It was enchanting and when the sun finally tucked itself behind the mountains, the cool air began to blow. It's almost like the temperature drop made the festival better.

At night after we were "herded" into our campground with massive dust clouds and inebriated revelers, we were suppose to quiet down and go to sleep. People who wanted a solid 8 hours of sleep and the chance to not be awoken by the sun at 7am crashed quickly, but c'mon, it's fucking Coachella. Why else are we all here on this little plot of well-manicured grass if not to get crazy? Well, Saturday night, about 24 hours before Rage Against the Machine was to go onstage and close the festival out in a most memorable fashion, things back at the campground took a turn for the worst, ...sort of.

Around 4am, I was sitting in our tent area and Scott had wondered out into the unknown. Joel, Travis, Jeff and Laura had all gone to sleep and I was pondering the same end to my night when very quietly, I heard sirens. They continued to get louder and louder and before you know it, police cars from five or six different local policing agencies had driven up to the main gate of the campground. I got up to find Scott and to see what was happening. Apparently, a party that Scott swears started with some drunken Canadians had reached "riot" proportions and the police were here to shut down the curfew violators. They got out of their cars in full riot gear as a helicopter circled above, it's light trained on the masses below.

For about an hour, I stood next to a fleet of people using their digital cameras to record the whole event. In a way, it felt like the camera I was recording with was the only thing REALLY stopping the police from descending on the crowd. They had the rubber bullet guns, the dogs, the shields, the tazers, and the tear gas. It had become scary in moments. Finally, after an hour or so, they packed it up and went home while the campers sung aloud, "na na, na-na-na-na, hey hey hey, ...gooodbye." The campers had won, the crowd broke up completely an hour after that and day three would be under way with the sun forcing me to wake up in less than two hours.

The festival closed on Sunday night with Rage Against the Machine playing for the first time in 7 years and in fact reuniting. The show was nothing shy of amazing and even though I wanted to hear something about the "Battle of Coachella" that happened the night before, it couldn't put asunder the sheer brilliance and emotional eargasms had by 60,000 people when they closed with "Killing in the Name."

That's it. The festival was great. I fell in love with LCD SoundsystEm and cEmEnted some new friEndships with people from far away from here. There was a really grEat moment on Sunday night as we ran from end of the festival grounds to the other to catch Rage. We were running with our arms and hands outstretched to our sides like airplanes. I fElt likE a kid playing with my friEnds and in fact, I felt frEe.

but that would only last for 12 more hours as the trip home was inevitable and beckoning us.

24 hours after we got into our sand soaked cars and headed back East, we had arrived in Austin. We were tired, stressed, and angry with one another and we needed to be separated and slept. So that's what we did. We took an extra day to do nothing but recuperate. Now it would be time for our lives to return to the norm again, whatever that was for each of us.

It would also be a time for some changes... (more to come)

Settling in... Part 1

2007-05-19T21:43:00.001-05:00

Well, these last few months have been nothing shy of interesting considering only a month ago my best friend and our Scottish/Londoner import were preparing to move into a three bedroom house situated quietly in one of South Austin's greener plots. The move, being completely a physical and financial obsticle before cruising out to California for more debauchery, carries some metaphorical undertones as well.

The summer started early this year as the South by Southwest music and film festival got into full swing in mid-March. There was a huge influx of UK musicians and attendees this year, both of which have been nothing shy of amazing and some I have been lucky enough to meet and call 'friends.' Having five people attempting to live in a one bedroom loft for roughly a week was quite the experience. Suprisingly enough, the two boys from London, Chris and Scott, my best friend Travis, myself and my visitor from Portland managed to keep fairly busy schedules trying to be the best culture vultures we could be. SXSW has always been a memorable time for me since the late 90s when I started volunteering for the festival. At first glance it appears to only be a week of film premieres and musical exhibitions blaring out of every venue Austin has to offer, but once you become absorbed by the sounds, entranced by the lights, congenialized by the people, and attuned to the city, you realize, that you have set off on a mind-blowing, binge-drinking, emotional rollercoaster of fast times, funny people and emblazened memories.

Not only did I have the sublime pleasure of meeting and hanging out with some new friends, but I saw some amazing performances from bands I will not likely see any time soon. On top of it all, the best (at the time) UK import came in the form of girl I started courting who lives and works right here in Austin. Most nights during the overwhelming music festival portion I would find myself standing next to her, staring at her eyes and smile, probably reflecting my own vulnerable emotional state. You see, music has a way of unlocking the deepest part of who we are and bringing that untouched, smothered part of our existance to the surface for a little leg-stretching. I honestly felt bad that I had been starting to neglect my friends in lieu of this girl, this English woman from Norwich, but it couldn't be helped. I was experiencing emotions I hadn't felt in years and more importantly, with music to accompany it all from the likes of The Good, the Bad, and the Queen, Amy Winehouse, Bloc Party, and Badly Drawn Boy. I felt so alive and the air all around me felt extremely electric, like when you feel the first cool bursts of air in Autumn. There was no way I could forget anything about that week which was right on the money for that special time in Austin, TX. I can't wait for next year.

Rainy days followed and Mr. Scott Henderson would embark on a new journey to Lake Tahoe for some snowboarding, leaving Travis and I to sort out our impending affairs at the small shanty we had come to call home for the last six months. Instead of cleaning the apartment, boxing up miscellaneous items, and making the necessary preparations to move, we decided that our time could probably be better spent slumming around in our bath robes raping the only piece of Scott left behind (his computer) for the remaining downloaded episodes of the dramatic juggernaut, Battlestart Galactica. We would continue on our emotional journey through season three accompanied by many smoke breaks as we assesed who we were as people and the world around us. I had found a house on Craigslist one random day that had three bedrooms and seemed within our budgy, plus it was also located in the part of South Austin we needed it to be in considering both Scott and Travis are without a car. The only problem was the landlady, who had informed Travis and I after an impromtu walk-though, that she would be taking the following week to weigh the possible tennant applications she had received. (yes it was a shock to me that we were not a shoe-in as well). The following days were dark. It was cold, getting colder and raining, still. Scotty was snowboarding (lucky bastard), the Virginia Tech massacre had just happened and the house we wanted, that we thought was ours already, had in fact become that proverbial basket we had put all our eggs in. Travis and I masked our depression with whiskey and sleep and if we had any tears to show, we would both start talking about how good Battlestar Galactica was, since we were usually always watching it during that turbulant time. Since we didn't really have a new place to call home yet, Travis and I thought it best to compare and contrast all the similarties between BG and the planet Earth, and way we might be able to fix it all. Finally, after many dark days doing nothing but the routine, we got word from Ann, the owner, and it was good news. She had chosen us and decided her house would be filled with 1 part - good credit/workaholic, 1 part - horrible credit/wonderer, and an immigrant who we told her over and over again wrote for an "online magazine" and was a reputable journalist. We had done it. Now we just needed to come up with $2,600 dollars and move all our shit over to the new place before packing up my teal stationwagon and heading out to California for Coachella, which was roughly four days from that moment in time. No pressure right?
What could possibly happen next you ask?
I'll give you a hint, ...

his name is Joel and he's Australian. (TBC)