SAD GIRLS POR VIDA

Tonight, a friend of mine taught me an invaluable lesson: keep your pimp hand strong.

Often, I find I learn most of my lessons the hard way.

Of course, this lesson was no exception.

Not only did she teach me to keep my pimp hand physically strong (by teaching me how to open a beer bottle with just my hand against a sturdy surface [which incidentally resulted in me sipping part of my kitchen sink out of my beer, but that's another story]) but also, in the more metaphorical sense, to play to my strengths.

I intended to inform you, my only reader, of the question I asked a few close friends and co-workers: if you could describe yourself in one word, what would it be? My roommate's reply: explosive, my co-worker's reply: inquisitive, my confidant's reply: crazy.

Initially, I thought only two words could possibly arrive at describing me: average and cynical.

Tonight, I realized neither word quite fully captures me.

I learned I should not try to convince myself that I am what I am not (average). Similarly, I should not focus on my most negative quality (my cynicism).

From now on, if anyone asks me to describe myself in one word, I will always (resoundingly) reply: thoughtful.

I, as a vehement Kant, critic, have found one particular part of his moral philosophy compellingly brilliant. I'll try to cut to the chase here (because my frequent readers have probably heard enough of me bitching about my Kant classes).

He said something to the effect of good will is [the only human capacity] that is good in and of itself.

Essentially, his argument is that no matter how good one's action was, (even if it's simply helping an old lady cross the street) it has no moral worth unless it was borne of some particular good intention the agent had in mind (to help an old lady cross the street because...).

The because (which I italicized so you, my only reader, would think about it yourself) is really what Kant's interested in. (I'd bore you with the details of why he believes that and why I so whole-heartedly disagree, but that's for an ethics class, not a blog.)

Kant thinks, as do I, that pre-meditated thoughtfulness before an action is what makes it an ethical one.

Kant extrapolates (at great length [and I really mean it when I say great]) that if an action was borne of an agent's good will, that the consequences are immaterial as the agent cannot predict with any certainty, the outcome of any particular action.

The fact that I can look myself in the mirror every night knowing that each of my actions had a thoughtful intent behind it is really my only solace.

Knowing that, I now know that what is most important in life is for everyone to keep their pimp hands strong.

Really reflecting on it, thoughtfulness has gotten me everywhere I am today.

I'm confident, given this new knowledge, that the results of keeping my pimp hand strong will be nothing short of extraordinary.

PEOPLE ARE STRANGE

Some fidgety blonde fuck just showed up at my door trying to bamboozle me.

A few things surprised me about this particular action:

1.) that I actually got up off the couch,

2.) that I answered the door for this guy,

3.) that he talked so Goddamn fast,

4.) that he seemed honest at first, and

5.) that someone would try to put one past me-you gotta get up pretty early in the morning to fool me.

The whole interaction was really surreal. First, he introduced himself as my neighbor which is certainly plausible as I'm essentially a hermit and wouldn't recognize a damn one of my neighbors (aside from the locos next door).

So he launched into this story about trying to improve his public speaking skills. As a liar, this was his best move. The way he made eye contact with me almost fooled me into thinking he could have been sincere but looking at it in hindsight, he was obviously just trying to sell me something.

He proceeded to tell me he was accumulating points for some sort of contest. The entire time he talked to me, he interjected every few seconds asking if he was earning any points from me. I just played along and said yes, because I wanted to see where this fidgety motherfucker was going to take this.

Then he just started handing me stuff. First, a laminated page with the Eiffel Tower, the Vatican and Big Ben. He told me that he was trying to accumulate points to go to Rome because he was interested in art, but also (and I'm not making this up) "maybe smack the Pope around a few times for touching little boys where they pee."

So needless to say, I thought he was funny at least.

But then he just lost me. He handed me another pamphlet and told me that if I opened it, I'd find men's edible underwear, and asked me if I'd like that. So I said "No dude... You gotta get outta here." So he laughed and opened the pamphlet, showing me that he was trying to sell me magazine subscriptions.

Magazine subscriptions? Are you fucking kidding me dude?

If you want to sucker me into something, it's going to need to involve beer or chocolate.

Magazine subscriptions? Who's interested in magazines?

I just gave him the most befuddled look I've ever given anyone in my life (except for my roommate, who tries to explain multi-variable calculus to me, a guy who barely passed Stats) and told him I hadn't the slightest interest in buying magazine subscriptions.

At this point, I was just pissed because he had made me think I was doing him a favor the whole time. I like doing strangers favors. Especially giving directions to wanderers. It's a no commitment favor. Whether I help them or not, I spent all that time entertaining their weird rants so I can justify being my normal curmudgeony self.

Had I know this guy was trying to get me to buy magazine subscriptions for myself, I would have slammed the door in his face the first chance.

Oh, but wait! He told me I could buy them as a gift for my girlfriend or Mom! Dude! You're telling me I can just pay you cash for these magazine subscriptions, and have them sent to someone else's address? That's brilliant!

Back to reality, though. First of all, I don't have a girlfriend. Second of all, even if you were sending magazine subscriptions (which you obviously weren't) and some shitty magazine showed up in my family's mailbox, two things would happen: my Mom would promptly throw away what she thought was junk mail until my Dad found the magazines with my name on them and think to himself: Damn, my son is an idiot. He probably got bamboozled by some sucker talking about points, the Pope and edible underwear! Though I'm not sure anyone is that clairvoyant, it certainly would make this post a little more entertaining.

I'd just like to reflect on what this post is really trying to convey: I do have some moral code and some expectation of etiquette. And, despite how skewed they are, this guy totally crossed the line.

Don't invite yourself into my house and try to sell me "magazine subscriptions"! I'm insulted that this kid thought he was clever enough to pull a maneuver like that in the first place, but that he pulled me away from FIFA is a whole different matter.

To anyone who lives in my building: close the fucking door behind you!

To any future swindlers at my doorstep: at least come when my roommates are here so they'll answer the door and entertain me by interacting with you.

HAIRDRESSER ON FIRE

As Ferris Bueller, once said: "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you might miss it."

I can't help but agree. Unfortunately, it is only nominal agreement as I am a self-saboteur who, rather than following his own advice, idly discloses my life semi-anonymously over the Internet.

It's always been true that you're damned if you do and you're damned if you don't. But really, Murphy's law has never been more applicable.

What can be expected of me when I meet someone who drinks Scotch and water at 4:30am? What can be expected of me when she participates in Scrabble tournaments, drives stick and has the sense of humor and beauty to boot?

But as I said, I want to avoid self-sabotage. And, as we've all come to learn, I learn every lesson the hard way... I'm certain this lesson is no exception.

Hell, at least she's only five years my senior instead of twice my age.

The latter hasn't ended so well for me either.

[Edit (31/May): it's been a week, and she's still on my mind... Not only that, I found out that she likes Wes Anderson, David Bowie, and Portuguese-language guitar covers (like me) all in one fell swoop, as Shakespeare would say. {Twelfth Night showing at UCLA's North Campus Auditorium next Saturday and Sunday!}]

ON YOUR RADIO

Listening to Atmosphere last night, I realized what I value most about music is honest expression. As a lyricist, Slug is not only personal, but also crafts words in a way I really admire. After Jim Morrison's death, his father stated: "my son had a brilliance he expressed with uncompromising honesty." Lou Reed, the subject matter of whose songs ranged from sado-masochism and heroin to love and life in New York City, was also a brilliant expressionist. The video above showcases his ability to express his contempt through wit and sarcasm. I think if Oscar Wilde had press coverage in his day, his interviews would be similar. It has always been my aim to be as honest and open in my writing as I continually strive to be. With that, I turn to something I have thought about at length.

I think what's on your radio can say a lot about you. I'm glad that I've never encountered anyone who had U2 playing when I entered their car. Similarly, I'm glad I don't know very many Giants fans, but that's just gravy. But do a person's preferences say enough about him or her as an individual?

I'm wondering: is it what someone likes or what someone is like that makes them compatible?Certainly, I'd love to meet someone who shares some enthusiasm for good cuisine, film, art, literature or music. But would that just be a reflection of my own personality? Would anyone really want to be with someone who just shared their preferences?

It's no doubt that a relationship should be based on trust and openness. But again, is that merely a reflection of what I strive for?

Or is it that there is a correlation between personality and preset FM stations?

THE UNION FOREVER

Orson Welles was twenty-five years old when he filmed and starred in Citizen Kane. Not only was he only twenty-five, but it was the first film he directed. Not to mention the fact that it's regarded as the greatest film of all-time by many, many critics. But my homie Chris (and this particular homie knows his movies... He's seen 1800+ films—I'm just sayin', homeboy has discriminating taste...) ranks this as among his top favorite films. Homie has discriminating taste—he really knows what he's talking about (and I'm not kidding).

Back to you though.

Oh, so it's like The Beatles... you think to yourself? Just because everyone ranks The Beatles as the greatest band of all-time, even the most amateur music critic (i.e. Rolling Stone's many, many editors who rank Pepper as the greatest album of all-time) will cite them as the greateset of all-time. De lo contrario, mi amigo... I myself must admit to have been one of those Beatles fans. Currently I can't get enough Doors, Metallica, Misfits, of Montreal, Sex Pistols, Frank Sinatra or Velvet Underground to get my fix... Really, from the most objective stance I've ever taken, Citizen Kane really is that good (and yes I realize the irony of the hyperbole... Fuck off).

As for my personal opinion on Citizen Kane, the way I described it to my fellow employees at Charles E. Young Research library today: every movie since Citizen Kane has tried to live up to it in terms of filmography and technique, but never has.

But that's really my only original idea I can convey to you, and it's merely my opinion, a novice film critic's.

Ebert's commentary on Citizen Kane (quintessential film criticism) provides insight to the film technique. (Of course: I did not recognize the following, for I have not stepped to Ebert's level...) I just hope you understand I'm trying to put some perspective on it.

Ebert's commentary explicates the nuances of Kane that only an expert could: how Welles literally scraped film across the floor to imitate the stock footage portrayed in the newsreel, how the newsreel displays the entire movie, yet it plays out as if the ending hadn't already been spoiled for you [compliments of the homie Chris], how the witness to Kane's life never leaves the lower right quadrant, how the opening scene never loses focus on the light in Kane's house before he utters his dying word: "Rosebud". And if you've never heard of Rosebud, please leave my blog immediately (but it was tremendously pleasant to have you).

And really, Citizen Kane is not my favorite movie...

I'm certainly going with Notorious as my favorite film and Humphrey Bogart or Jimmy Stewart as my favorite actor. (If you're curious.)

Lastly, and completely un-relatedly, the Dodgers have won five straight to gain on San Diego... Pitching their worst pitcher against San Diego's best who the Dodgers allowed to play for them (by some cosmic error which evades me). By the end of the weekend, I predict the Dodgers will lead the N.L. West. Trust me.

-DJD