Floppy Hair Day
There is a point roughly two weeks after I get my hair cut when my hair suddenly gets floppy. It has reached the point where it’s grown one or two many microns overnight and can’t hold the shape that it normally does, so it flops down. Yesterday was just such a floppy hair day.
I like my hair to look like a crown on my head because of my huge imperial ego. But sometimes I’ll go a few weeks without cutting it because I’m working on something (“blaah, too busy to cut hair!!”) or just because I’m too lazy to do something about it.
One time in high school my hair got so long that my mom offered to pay me to cut it. Eventually I went ahead and did so without taking her up on her offer. At that point I think I was as unhappy about my hair as she was.
Hey Vietnamese American people, are you proud of Chloe Dao, winner of Project Runway? I am, and I’m not even Vietnamese!
There’s a pretty good segment on her here on CNN.
I think the model that she uses on her boutique’s website should be my future wife.
Alien Archaeology / Personal Collapse / Evil Tivo
So I’ve been exploring other peoples’ blogs and the vast majority of what people post about is what they did on the weekend. These are usually accompanied by pictures of what they did, and then pictures of themselves vomiting into planters in their apartment complex.
I think that if blogs were the only historical record the human race left behind, alien archaeologists would think that all we did was go clubbing, go to Vegas, take pictures of ourselves in mirrors, and write emo poetry. That’s an OK legacy, I think. Much better than being known for the cannibalistic ritual of FEASTING ON THE SOULS OF THE DEAD like the Yanomamo.
So I’m almost through Professor Jared Diamond’s book, Collapse. I’m hoping to understand what makes a society collapse so that I can keep myself from collapsing. I figure it should be a lot easier since I’m just one guy.
I’ve learned a few key rules:
- Do not exhaust your key primary resource. For Easter Islanders it was trees. For the Anasazi Indians it was farmable land. For me, it is Pocky and Diet Coke. As long as Pocky and Diet Coke exist, so will I.
- Do not be invaded by hostile neighbors. Carthage was plundered by Rome. Ireland was subjugated by the English. So never, ever let Roman or English people move in next door. Soon they’ll be hanging out at your place all the time until they pretty much own it. Then they’ll enslave you.
There was a third thing but I forgot it. I think it literally had something to do with attitude, as in “have a good one”. Specifically, it’s how a society chooses to respond to its problems that will determine whether it collapses or not. It’s all about attitude. People with bad attitudes tend to collapse.
to have a Bad Attitude.
Wondershowzen on MTV: So sick, so horrific, so hilarious. Watch online here. Oh my god this show. It’s a show that satan would create to entertain little demon babies. I love it.
I had no idea Wondershowzen existed until my Tivo recorded it as a “suggestion”. So my Tivo knows me pretty well. It knows that I’m evil and I hate all that is good and decent in the world, and that I stole Christmas last year. Yes, I admit it, I took your ting-tinglers and your roast beast. I sold them to buy crack.
It also recorded “My Name is Earl”. This thing is uncanny!
Also, I can’t help it and I was telling Stan about it last night, but the skateboarding dog (see left) is beginning to make me believe in intelligent design. If you’re an evangelical, fuck the dinosaurs existing 6000 years ago — here is a SKATEBOARDING DOG. HE RIDES A SKATEBOARD.
I wish I had a skateboarding dog.
Storytelling / Pain
So for a few years in college I was a camp counsellor for Unicamp. Getting the kids up to the camp site (in the Angeles mountains) and back down again is an experience in itself. You’re on a bus on a winding road for an hour before or after the freeway. The kids are either antsy or crazy on the way up or beat-down tired on the way down.
Anyway, one trip back with a bus full of kids I got suckered into telling this Korean fable. I’m not sure how that happened. I think the kids were bored and rowdy and someone yelled me into telling it.
I hit all the marks of the story with big-G Gusto, did voices for the characters (especially The King), and really got into it. There’s a sort of zen moment that you sometimes reach when telling a story — kind of like being outside of your body.
The kids were captivated. It was surprising. It was weird. And when I finished, one of them asked me to tell it again. Then the rest of them demanded that I tell it again. So I did.
I love storytelling. You can tell a story to a bunch of jaded gameboy-playing kids — a fable from another country totally removed from their own existence — and keep them riveted with it. Something connects with them. The key is finding that connection. It’s like magic.
Running is a lot about overcoming pain. I don’t have any actual pains right now, but for a while I went through the whole standard set of shin splints, ankle pain, arch pain, etc.. I was able to exercise them out and overcome them.
So now there’s just the “pure” physical pain of pushing myself to keep going. For me it takes about 30 minutes before the endorphins kick in and I’m in la-la land. The first 10 minutes of a run are the hardest.
So what I try to do is think about something. I think about what I’m working on or I think about something that’s stressing me out. Usually I can psyche myself into distracting my brain away from noticing the pain. That usually works.
If I get really distracted by a thought I’ll run my entire route without feeling any pain whatsoever. Sometimes I’ll go a mile or two unconsciously without having thought “turn left here” or “turn right”. I go on autopilot.
And sometimes I specifically think only about the pain of running. I grab a hold of it, relish it. Like my British friend Peter used to say about Camel unfiltered cigarettes — sometimes you’re just in the mood for the lung-ripping sensation you get from smoking them.
My Identity Came from Smoking
So as of today it’s been three and a half years since I quit smoking. It’s been a long, interesting road since then.
People asked me why I stopped smoking in the first place. There was a card that came with my Nicoderm patch starter’s kit (I used patches to quit, you see) that they ask you to fill out and carry around for reference.
Here’s my actual card, scanned in from the Golamco Archives:
In case you need a translation of my crumby handwriting, it says:
My most important reasons to quit smoking are:
- I am angry that I am controlled by a substance
- It keeps me from those I love
- It costs a lot of FUCKING MONEY that I need for stuff
- It bores and annoys me
- It FUCKING STINKS!
And off to the side in smaller scratches (because I ran out of lines) I wrote, “Plus it’s killing me”.
By my tone you can tell that if smoking were a person, I would have murdered him with an icepick.
And beyond the card, there was one reason to quit smoking that I kept to myself: My smoking was becoming part of my identity. People would recognize me as “that guy that smokes”. That really began to bother me.
I didn’t want to be known for being a smoker. I wanted to be known for being awesome.
So three and a half years ago I made a powermove and quit smoking on the first try. I have made several other major transformations since then, and I feel good. I’m still in the process of making a few other transformations as well.
I’m writing about this now because I’m on the lookout for new ways to transform. And I’m not looking for dalliances, one night stands with systems of beliefs. I’m looking for permanent changes I can make. Big powermoves.
I want to take a vacation in Iceland.
Manos, The Hands of Fate
Imagine that you’re a fertilizer salesman from Texas named Hal Warren. And you have a dream. Your dream is to make a low-budget horror movie because horror movies make money. So you gather local actors together, rent a camera and put together a crew. And somewhere along the way, you somehow produce what is considered to be one of the worst movies ever made.
This is Manos, The Hands of Fate, and it is bad. Easily the absolute worst movie I’ve ever seen, probably the worst movie ever made.
At this point you may tug on my sleeve and say, “But Mike, isn’t Plan 9 From Outer Space the worst movie ever made?” No my friend. I’ve seen Plan 9, and it was at least watchable. Manos, with its 8 minute long, one-shot driving sequences, is almost completely unwatchable.
In fact, if it hadn’t been for the Mystery Science Theater 3000 version of the film, no one would’ve ever heard of Manos, The Hands of Fate. And frankly, without the MST3k guys poking fun at the film, it would be impossible to sit through.
A quick plot summary: A guy and his family are driving through the desert and stop at a hotel for no apparent reason. There they’re greeted by a shuffling goat-man named Torgo (John Reynolds) who works for “The Master”, an evil fellow in a black poncho with giant hands on it. And it just gets worse from there.
(the director) also plays the hapless lead.
So why is this movie on my list of 75? Because it’s a case study in everything that can possibly go wrong in filmmaking. EVERYTHING, from the look of the movie (washed out, fuzzy, with moths flying around in front of the camera) to the dialogue (all recorded after it was shot since Hal Warren opted not to record sound simultaneously) is horrible. It’s amazing how so many horrible things converged in the same picture, much like a hurricane, earthquake, and a giant monster attack all striking a hapless burg on the same day.
But despite all of its errors and sins, it was ultimately resurrected into something entertaining. The MST3k riff is one of the funniest shows they’ve ever done. In fact, I’ve heard it was one of the hardest shows MST3k ever cranked out because it’s such a darned-awful movie. Nothing really happens in it, so there’s not much to riff off of. But in the end, the horror that is Manos inspired a masterpiece of comedy and a MST3k fan favorite.
Michael Stipe (of R.E.M.) once said that “you can’t polish a turd”. No, you can’t. But you can put it into a glass case on a velvet pillow with a sign that says, “The turdiest turd ever!!!” and people are guaranteed to check it out to see what all the fuss is about.
Far more impressive than Manos is the story behind it. Here are some great articles about the movie if you’d like to take a look:
- Wikipedia Entry on Manos
- The AgonyBooth’s full recap of the movie
- A must-read article about the making of Manos
Since the MST3k airing of Manos, a whole cult phenomenon has sprung up around the film. It’s not unfair to say that the movie has more fans now than Hal Warren ever dreamed possible. All he wanted to do was to make a few bucks. I doubt he ever thought that guys would be dressing up as Torgo and The Master over thirty years later.
And the Best Thing About This Movie: The Wrasslin’ Wives scene at the end.
BONUS: The official Torgo Website: www.torgo.org
I Hate This Game
Yesterday Westwood and I were ready for a riot. At dinner Kim noted police-on-horses strolling the streets getting ready to knock the wind out of any bottle-tossing maniacs.
But then the game came and went. And boy was it quiet tonight.
If you’re bummed out like me, you might want to check out the skateboarding dog I’ve got linked under “My Current Favorite Thing” on the left. That’ll lift your spirits.
He thinks he’s people!!
I think a lot of writers are huge sports fans because sports combine several things that most writers really love: 1) Conflict, 2) History, and 3) Huge personalities.
I don’t follow sports that much anymore. Too much heartbreak, too much stress. L.A. doesn’t have a football team anymore, and I don’t like the Lakers. I’ll go to a baseball game to eat garlic fries and hot dogs and be bored. I have a Yankees cap that I wear when I feel like it, but not because I like the team. I wear it because I like noo yawk.
Now that I write this, I’m dissecting my statement above about conflict, history, and personalities. I do love conflict and history, but I’m not so much a fan of huge personalities, i.e. heroes in the classical sense. Big brawny Hector types don’t get my worship.
What I love are losers that transcend. But I’m not sure where I’m going with this so I’ll stop here.
UPDATE: More pics and videos of our friend the skateboarding dog here: http://www.skateboardingbulldog.com
2.5 Pancakes / Pocky Addiction
On Saturday I had a brunch with our good friend Monica at Bread and Porridge on Wilshire. This is a good place for breakfast-type foods, plus it has a leather couched lounge area for drinking orange juice while you wait for your table.
I ate a three egg omelete with chicken sausage, spinach, mushrooms and cheese; potaters, and then two and a half banana pancakes. The bananas were caked into the pancakes in the pan. They were so nice and fluffy and not-greasy, as Monica observed. At the end I was so full of food I had trouble breathing.
I went running that afternoon and it felt like there was a dinosaur egg in my belly. Then I slept for three hours.
I have discovered, among other things, that Famima carries my favorite type of Pocky (Strawberry) for 79 cents a box. Compare this to Ralph’s which charges $2. I can have twice as much Pocky for less!!!
As a result I have been eating a lot of Pocky lately. I’m not sure what this is doing to the fragile ecosystem of my diet. Eating small pink-frosted biscuit sticks may somehow be emasculating me. I’m not sure. I will counterbalance by lifting weights and chewing tabackee.
My Work in Print
Year Zero
Available from Samuel French and Amazon.com
Cowboy Versus Samurai
Available from Samuel French and Amazon.comFor a complete list of books containing my work, please click here.
