Wednesday, February 20, 2008

What a slum.

I went to the office, after saying good bye to my uncle. I was told that the place I needed to be was down the street. I was escorted down the stairs and back out onto the street. Hastings street. It was cold and not that nice out, though earlier in the day it had been slightly sunny. I could see my breath either way and I was very nervous. New country, new people, new institution, new new new.

We made our way down hastings past the sketchy looking memorial park, and another block down we found our way around the corner into 420 Homer street. It was slick looking inside, and everything was very new and exciting. I was pushed through the door and smacked in the head with the booming voice of George Johnson. He told me I hadn't missed too much but I would have to work hard to catch up. Thanks for keeping up appearances George! I sat awkwardly in the front with my huge jacket and prepared to take notes. We watched a few short documentaries shot at VFS that day.

Also I was introduced to some people. George asked Jason Segal to show me the ropes. He was kind of the leader of a group of dudes made up of Dave Sarneki, Levon Motut, and himself. The young guys. I didn't really fit but I went out of my way to be nice because they seemed to be nice enough.

We broke because class had already been going for a good two hours by that point and a tall cute skinny girl kind of walked up to me and I think she even shook my hand. Her name was Monique and she was pretty. I don't remember meeting anyone else that day but I'm sure it happened. I don't really remember the rest of that day at all. I think that was the only class for the day at all, or maybe we went to lunch somewhere or something like that. I didn't have a camera so there were no pictures.

These memories will become clearer with time, they usually do anyway.


Will work for love.

Deja vu makes me think I have probably dreamed things before. Earlier I was gathering laundry and I dropped something and when I bent over to pick it up it just seemed so familiar. The whole situation, everything about it, even my station in life. Did I really predict that I would be single, living with my parents again after going away to school for a year to myself, and then kind of forget it a year or two ago?

I was thinking, what if there were a dude who had a dream about dying and in this dream everything seems normal and he is taking a shower. When he steps out of the shower his bathroom tile is more slick than he anticipates and he falls, his head breaking bits of tile off the wall and sending them flying. The miniature tile/shrapnel come back down from the sky in which they flew with great velocity and embed themselves into our protagonists throat, severing his carotid artery. He woke up scared but didn't remember it the next day. As people often will, he forgot about this dream. Business goes on as usual for the next week, year, whatever. One morning he wakes up extra glassy eyed from last nights binge behavior and hops in the shower. Everything is going fine, but when he turns off that shower he has a pause. This is so familiar, he thinks. He reaches out for his towel, and then looks down and remembers he decided to wash the bathmat a day ago and didn't put it back in its place yet. His brow furrows for but a moment, and then panic spreads across his face as that fleeting moment of recall shoots through his brain and he can almost remember what the problem might be.

What would you do? Get out, or air dry your body crouched and cowering in the cold cold bathtub?

Playlist: the Halo Benders, Blue Moon Honey Moon Summer Ale(it's still good!)

sound #4

the Halo Benders - God don't make no junk

I want a girlfriend who likes this band.

Friday, February 15, 2008

Take the Cross Out Ya Pussy

I have a friend who can sing my feelings. We have a connection that is unspoken and comforting and sometimes frustrating. It somehow manages to remain healthy. At least I think it is healthy, anyway.

I met Nicole when I was only 16 years old. I would sleep over at my friend Joe's house, after band practice most weeks. Nicole was Joe's friend and one Christmas she brought me a present. It was a pez despenser and some pez candy. I didn't understand why she would do this because as far as we all knew she had a really big crush on my best friend Chris, who was also in our band. Nicole, however seemed to have waning interest in Chris, because she started coming around more and more often whenever I was there. Eventually she tried to get me together with her friend Amber, which worked out kind of except Amber had a boyfriend and the situation was poor. Nicole and I eventually ended up together for what seemed like a decade or something to my puny adolescent brain and heart, but was in reality about a year and a half. That's one, maybe two birthdays. Her first car and my drivers license, the breakup of my first band and the beginning and end of my second bad, my highschool graduation, seeing David Spade at the RIO, seeing Blue Man Group at the Luxor(instead of playing my second bands last show), you know, memories, things of that nature.

It wasn't a healthy relationship. It was terribly unhealthy. We were both so insecure and latching onto each other like that at such a young age couldn't have been a good thing. Eventually she started looking elsewhere and all I could do was sit around and be sad. She ended up cheating on me with Joe(mentioned above), and with some random guy who she worked with. I was devastated. My feeble young heart and mind(mentioned above) were in a shambles and I suspect they probably still haven't recovered. I was 18 when it all ended and I'm 24 now. She kept coming around and trying to spoil anything I managed to eek out for myself after that for a while. She succeeded.

Now we're strangers. Eventually I told her I could never talk to her again and I haven't yet. I haven't run into her since I've returned to Las Vegas and I could only imagine what it would be like if we did run into each other. My guess is awkward.

I haven't spoken to Jessica, the girl I was in love with and lived with for a few months now. After all of these years all I am really left with is another stranger who knows me way too well for my own comfort.

Playlist: Modest Mouse, Lamps(live), Monique Noir, Japanther, the Rentals

Tuesday, February 12, 2008

sound #3

The Rentals - Return of the Rentals

Motherfuck an explanation.

Good morning.

There is something about driving home early in the morning that is refreshing and depressing at the same time.

I drive past people walking places, people driving places, commuting to start the day again. At certain points I concoct this ridiculous idea in my head that there is some kind of great drama to the fact that these people are making this commute on their own. It all seems so terribly sad in my mind.

Then I realize that they probably do this everyday, and that the real tragedy lies in when they don't do it anymore, because they're probably dead.

Playlist: Elton John, CCR

Sunday, February 10, 2008

sound #2


Two songs from Glasvegas. Your brain will shoot out of your penis/vagina.

United by one theme.

I was fifteen years old when I lost my virginity. I think I should have waited. The girl I was with at the time seemed pretty awesome. She liked punk rock like me, she didn't care about the things normal people did, she had a healthy distrust of the world around her, it was all I could ask for in a girl. But eventually she grew to be kind of repugnant. It probably didn't help that I didn't think I could do any better, and for some strange reason once I hit the age of 12 I was convinced that I was never going to get laid. Why did I care about getting laid at the age of 12? That weird and irrational fear, however, has never gone away. It has been about 8 months. My dry spells tend to last about 8 months, but I'm not counting on anything to change come March.

When I was 18 I made out with my ex girlfriends best friend. I had felt this was some kind of a victory at the time. My ex had cheated on me, with some random guy, and with one of my best friends whom I had a falling out with. After that point I never talked to him again. On the subject of the ex's best friend: at one point in the evening she asked me to have sex with her, and thereby had asked me to take her virginity. I was shocked, I was touched, mostly I was aroused. However something in my brain told me this was trouble. This girl fancied herself a lesbian(what she was doing making out with me I have no idea). As far as I could tell, the logic behind this was, lose it to some trustworthy friend and forget about doing it with guys after that. I didn't do it, though. I told her that I wasn't in love with her, and felt that because of this I wasn't right for the job. As far as I know she just ended up having sex with some other guy.

Sometimes I will think back to that moment. Slouching over her dresser fiddling with her CD player, I heard her ask, "Will you have sex with me?" My head dropped, and I just got kind of dizzy. I had never been asked that question outright before. I liked her just fine, but obviously I wasn't in a healthy emotional place. I'm going to stop going over it right now and admit that I should have just gone ahead and done it. I wish I had, and I should stop kidding myself. It wouldn't have mattered anywhere near as much as I thought it would or wanted it to.

Playlist: Glasvegas, Lifetime

Saturday, February 9, 2008

sound #1

Bedhead - whatfunlifewas

I've been listening to this alot today. And now I am sharing.

Other people's feelings.

Living in Vancouver, BC, I came to know a man by the name of Ian Whitehouse. Ian is a great dude, he's a little shy and slow to come out of his shell, but once you get to know him, you will find he is a wonderfully genuine person with a large amount of charm. It is because of this I would not miss his birthday party for anything. Unfortunately, this story is not about Ian directly, but moreso about another gentleman at his party, and myself putting my foot in my mouth.

The party was at a bar called Wings, and one of the people who joined us was a man whose name we shall say is Phil. Phil was an interesting fellow
, affable and whatnot. I had met him a few times before, and I came to find out that he was the grandson of a legendary jazz musician who shall remain nameless here. Something I noticed right off the bat about this gentleman was that he oft wore very flashy jewelry, in particular, a gigantic cross, made of either platinum or silver. Here is the part where my foot ended up in my mouth. With us that evening was Brett(a different Brett, duh). He was a fan of jazz music and the like, and I felt the need to inform Brett of Phils lineage. Brett was impressed to say the least. Phil had on more than one occasion mentioned that he was the current owner of the name and likeness rights of his deceased grandfather. Thinking Phil had left the table for the rest room, I decided to inform Brett of this. "Oh, yeah, dude is loaded. Didn't you notice his BLING!?" It was then I realized two things; I was speaking loudly because the music in the place was loud, and that Brett had a look on his face that said to me something along the lines of "Oh my god, you asshole". I turned and sure enough, there was Phil, right at the table. I'm not sure if he heard me, but I'm pretty sure he heard me. Sure enough to where I felt like leaving the party was a good idea. I felt pretty bad. He was a nice enough guy, and I had probably insulted him just a tiny bit, if not alot. If you ever read this, famous musicians grandson, I'm sorry I said those careless things, and I'm sorry I didn't have the balls to say that to you in person. And if you didn't hear me that night, this is entirely a work of fiction anyway, so don't even worry about it.

Also: nice cross.

Playlist: Paper Airplanes, Braid, Otis Redding

I am not talented unless somebody else thinks I am talented. And neither are you.

I've got to find a better way to get this energy out. I'm creating creating creating. I've written more songs, scripts, and random things since I've been home than I have in years. I've got to commit this to something other than the internet. Here is more memory:

When I was little I lived in Brooklyn, NY until I was 7. I think back to all of my actions as a child and I hate kids because of it. Not all kids, mind you. Babies are cute(my niece in particular), but when kids get to be an age where they become concerned with what is cool, and what isn't, they tend to suck. It's unfair, I know, and it makes me sound like some kind weirdo elitist with a strange superiority complex picking on an easy target. I had a powerwheels ATV thing and my parents would let me ride it on the sidewalk in front of the house. I remember the cool air rushing past my cherubic childhood face as I whizzed back and forth on that thing. I felt fucking cool. I was 5 years old and I had the world in my fist, ready to squeeze. All I had to do was go a little bit faster on my powerwheel and things would be better than they ever had. Then some bigger kids rode past on their bicycles and I thought to myself, here is a real chance to impress some important people. Obviously they were important, these kids had bikes! And they were taller! How could I do this? Apparently the answer was trying to ride my little ATV backwards. What the fuck would possess me to do something like this? The need to be cool. I ended up almost falling over after running off the curb. Caught in the act of being cool by my mother, I was scolded and my sweet sweet ATV freedom was taken away just like that. Real fuckin' cool, 5 year old Brett.

Playlist: Bedhead, Paper Airplanes

Today is the day.

Today I will not get anything of any real importance done. I have traffic school to do from when I got a speeding ticket speeding through Crescent City, CA on my way home from school.

I went away to Canada to go to film school a year ago. I left on new years day at 7 in the morning. Jessica, my girlfriend at the time and I went to sleep at 10 at my parents house, where we were visiting for the holidays. I guess she wasn't my girlfriend at the time though. Things had already broke bad, and what I'm describing here is the last time I saw her in person. We went to sleep early that night and woke up briefly to hear some fireworks and kiss each other at midnight. We had broken up in November but were still living together in San Diego, and thusly, we still acted as a couple. This was as brutal as it sounds to live through. We woke up at 4:30, and packed some stuff into our cars, mine was packed pretty intensely. I brought whatever home comforts I could manage to justify. A 27 inch television, way more clothing than I really needed, some of my dvds, my computer, my acoustic guitar, some other shit. We got into separate cars and drove the I-15 down to barstow. We stopped for some coffee, ate some del taco, and then sat against our cars crying our eyes out. We kissed, and embraced and then I never saw her again. I went away. My first stop was to pick up her cousin Sergio near Burbank. He was going to the same school I was and he decided to catch a ride up there early with me. From there it was a straight shot north, through the mountains of northern California(but not before the boring ass farm land of central California), up through Oregon and Washington right to the border. Sergio almost got denied entry because his loan papers weren't as in order as they should have been according to the border agents. We got there on January 3rd. I started school the next day.

I've been back since December 21st or 22nd or so. On the trip back I drove the entire way, on the trip up I drove the whole thing except for a short stretch in Oregon which Sergio drove. I haven't found work yet, but to be perfectly honest, I've only put minimal effort into finding it. When I say work I mean film related work. That could be wedding videos for all I care(I got an interview for that one, but they didn't call me back).

If today is the day, why do I keep going back to talk about yesterday? I don't know. It is a habit I've always had. Focusing on the wrong things or nothing at all. I'm stuck here in Las Vegas because this is where my support system is, and I can't afford to get out on my own right now. Today is the day, and every day is the day, to figure out how to do that in a way I can live with, on my own.

playlist: beat beat beat, braid, the buzzcocks, the boys, balls, beer