Crossing

Pimps with jetpacks.

Happy International Day of Peace.

I’d like to start it off by saying fuck the world.

Fuck neighbors with loud barking dogs, ignorant people with money, roommates with poor organizational skills, small children, any hour before 10:30am, warm beer, people who don’t return phone calls, people who care about celebrities, women who think they’re fat, Arnold Schwarzenegger, the fact that Schwarzenegger is in my spell check and Funkadelic is not, random construction with no apparent workers, people who don’t take care of their pets, fashion, zombies, electronic failures, human failures, stalkers, ex girlfriends, insects that make noise, paying upwards of $3 for a cup of coffee, giving cell phones to young children, day jobs and last but certainly not least, fuck Lance Armstrong. Fuck him, his stretchy yellow pants and resulting lopsided bulge. Where I’m from, you’d get your ass kicked for wearing shit like that. And I’m from an affluent suburb in the most liberal state in the nation.

Peace, love and jigglybits,

Bono

Shalom, bitches.

This is when my boss goes up to people and says "Happy Roshanna" and then they give him money which he does not pass on to me.

And if Jurassic Park was real, bitches would be carrying around mini T. Rexes in their purses.

Commence to jigglin’

Sorry. I just flew in from Seattle and am still adjusting to the time difference.

Wherever I go, I run into people with the last name Williamson. Damn. William was a slut.

The government of the town I was staying in has a laptop on which they misspelled the name of the town.

It was fun. I could see Alaska from my house.

I slept on a memory foam pillow. It reminded me of what it's like to be asleep.


Right on, my Inuit.

I really wanted to get a snapshot of “Leisure/Jackson,” but laziness prevailed.

Other signs I wish I took pictures of:

“Useless Bay”

“Botany Bay” (+4 nerd points)

“Don't litter. It will hurt.”

“Bush Point Road”

I lived with someone who watches tv and I learned that America's Got Talent is judged by two Brits and a man who is only liked in Germany.

I met a man named Gar. He is not a pirate.

Some people are nervous about getting on a boat, but I’m ok. I just ate a crap ton of lifesavers.

I think all writers need water. You know. Like for survival, and stuff. Because you can write for a really long time, but you're eventually going to get thirsty.
Washington was fun, but I could see how it has one of the highest rates of suicide in the nation.

People are more predictable there. Their church slogan is "O happy day." The one here has “Before you master the bible, it must first master you.”

Apparently, God likes it rough.







Flying is a lot like watching the Olympics. When it comes to those crucial
moments, everyone scrutinizes minute details like they know what the hell
they're doing.

Whenever I have a lot of programs open it sounds like tiny armadillos having sex inside my computer.

I heard Stone Temple Pilots at the grocery store.

Worse yet, I heard a band that I saw live on soft rock radio alongside the John
Tesh Music Hour.

+3 old fuck points



I have a birthday coming up. I’m keeping my options open.

I'm down like James Brown in the ground.

Gertrude Baines, the world's oldest known person, died of a heart attack today.
She really should've watched what she ate.

LSD stands for Aaaaaaahh!!!

Jk. I've never done that shit.

Can't sleep. Clowns will eat me.

If anyone ever puts me in charge of developing an acronym, I will make it of all silent letters. But I’ll probably have to move to France to get away with that.

Whenever someone tells me about a corn maze, I think they're stuttering in
tongues.

I like fruit on the bottom yogurt. The best part is the bottom. They should just make fruit.

I wonder if when the government named Indiana they knew it would one day also be the name of a porno.

Googling yourself is just foreplay to Youtubing yourself.

I may soon be writing for a variety show in LA. Hopefully, that will land me a job writing for film. I don’t really have the attention span to write the scripts, but I could name them.

Boondock Saints 2: The Legend of Curly’s God

Short fiction writers, this one’s for free: I snatched a fly out of the air, crushed it between my thumb and forefinger and dropped it in the trash. The next day, I find it on the floor a half inch away from the can. Ready, GO.

Autobiographical meta flash fictions:

#1
I’ll call it “flash” because reading it gives the same feeling as finding out that the man in the trench coat looks his age.

#2


The new shirt by Snorg Tees got the Konami Code incorrect. You can send your hate mail here: business@snorgtees.com

Video games are not educational anymore. Ms. Pac Man taught me all about hermaphroditism.

Mustachioed is among my favorite adjectives.

I heard a woman yell to her child "Give me the key! 5!...4!..."

5? What happened to 3? Kids these days have a much shorter attention span. She should be starting at 1.



"Kids these days?" Jebus. +2 more old fuck points.

Jeremiah was in fact a South African speckled brown toad.

I bought ink online and it sent me a link where I could print an invoice.

So, I did. And this was page 2:


If you can’t read it, that says “Thanks for recycling!”


Little Red Corvette.

The latest in unnecessary news coverage: It took an interview with a government official to gain the headline “Teddy was loved.”


Clearly Nixon propaganda.

Soldiers in Afghanistan commemorated the anniversary of 9-11 with a 21 gun
salute, or as the citizens of Afghanistan call it, "Holy crap!"

I find the following disturbing because they actually get away with it:

• Mayo that is healthy because it has Omega-9
• A cattle farm that is good for the environment
• The school library being described as adjacent to the coffee shop
• Religious people who call praying “kneemail.”
  

Ok, so they don’t really get away with that. But that doesn’t mean I hate it any less.

Also in that category would be women who wear clothing with pockets and still keep their iPhone in their boobs.

And women who keep candy in their boobs to hand out to little kids.

Men don’t do that kind of stuff. I don’t know a single man who keeps M&Ms in his asscrack.

Or his boobs.

I recently came across someone (a writer, no less) who spells them “bubbies.”

Even this guy knows better:



If I ever get on Wheel of Fortune, I hope I'm pitted against two smurfs.

Funny name: Dhi Bui



I washed a peach and it became a nectarine.


Do you drink it with pasta puttanesca?

Whenever someone says to me “I wanna bowla soup,” I’m not sure if they’d like the meal, the weapon or the deadly monkey virus.

In the medical world, H1N1 =

In the gaming world, H1N1 = you’ve sunk my PT boat

For those of you who read Entertainment Weekly on a fairly regular basis:

In: Making fun of Timberlake
Out: Making fun of Kanye
Forever: Making fun of Bono

I’ll take famous hammers for 500.



I want to go to a club, but not one where I’d have to dress in ridiculous clothes, dance to bad remixes of worse music, drink watered down beverages, deal with douchey rich kids and pay a hefty fee just to enter the building.

I want to go to a bar.

Miss me?

Sorry about the lack of real updates. I’m an obsessive compulsive procrastinator.

When you sneeze and fart at the same time, you’re never quite sure of what’s going to happen.

Yes, it’s good to be back.

Did you know Schwinn makes a stationary bicycle? It’s a regular bicycle that sits in your garage because you’re too lazy to ride it.

We should form a stationary bike gang. Just a group of friends to come over and eat gummy bears in front of the TV.

Crabtree is persisting. When that happens, you generally get a stronger ointment.

Scotch Whiskey (n) - Whiskey that just doesn’t see the point in you spending so much money

Who does the stork fuck?

Being a writer sometimes means looking at a story and thinking “I need to make a baby.”

I absolutely love it when someone complaining about the lack of spell check software misspells the word “typo.”

I meant to type, “Where my Dad hangs his suits” but instead typed, “Where my Dad hangs his shit.” That’s a bit of a slip for someone who is pretending to be 8 years old.

I have an idea for a better TV show: Family Freud


My shit is stuff.

Overheard gem: “My friend, LeBron, only she’s white and a woman.”

I don’t have biceps. I have lesbianceps.

To be honest, I’m a bit scared to fuck an opera singer.

I miss being away from the real world, but I don’t miss Fresno. For those of you who have never been, it’s kinda like the other valleys in California. Except where Napa has wine, Fresno has raisins.

And it is the only city I know of that is consistently described as “The devil’s (insert orifice here).”

And the devil apparently has all of the orifices.

Why are churches shaped like hats? Did God used to work at Lids in the mall?

That would explain the uniform:



Oops. No. I meant:



Recycling jokes is fun.



The following makes me lose hope in humanity:

The 10:00 news reporting on a Facebook group.

That Facebook group trying to keep the Lodi city council from eradicating their tradition of

Opening their meetings with a prayer to Jesus

Oh, christ.

The leader of the group is named Reverend Gordon. That’s it. Your Gordon license has been revoked. You must now be referred to as Reverend Dickface.

I’m almost certain that Cannibal Corpse was a Christian band.

Necrophiliacs are just looking for posthumous organ donors.

Contraceptive (n) - Someone who is generally warm to the idea of playing old video games.

Ladies, do you want to know how to please a man?

Up Up Down Down Left Right Left Right B A B A Select Start.

40 lives = long time.

Overheard gem: “I love you. My whole world revolves around you. Blah blah blah.”

Perfection is when the kid at Safeway throwing a tantrum and screaming at his mother, “I don’t wanna go to the store! I don’t wanna go to the store!” does so while standing in front of the condoms.

I got all up in Greenhaven’s pocket last week. There was a sign that read, “It takes a whole community to raise a child,” followed by one that read “If you can dream it, you can do it,” followed by a fire station advertising a safe place to abandon your baby.

I had a dream in which I had an incredible idea for something to write here, but I didn’t write it down, and when I woke up, it was gone.

Always take notes.

Someone recently challenged me to a duel because we share the same last name. I win by default, because my first name isn’t Jed.

But he just got engaged, so I guess he wins.

Given my family’s history of heart disease, I’ve been cooking healthier foods. Today I made a sandwich with lean meats, plenty of veggies and fresh-baked bread. On the side: Cheetos.

I sure hope Obama’s reforming health care during a recession doesn’t amount to “An apple a day...”



Health food = filtered water used to cook fat-free hot dogs smothered in chili and cheese.

I love all dairy products except for the smell emanated by the actual dairy.

The cow is just a tasty animal. Even its secretions lead to yummy goodness.

Menudo, however, is a failure in inductive reasoning.

So is veganism.

Am I the only one who sees a parallel in religions and eating habits? Certain people are just gluttons for punishment.

I passed by Albertaco’s Mexican Food. If your name is Albertaco, then you’ve found your calling.

Funny work email name: Pam Horn shortened to phorn@website.com

I feel sorry for strippers. This economy needs to turn around so they can go back to fighting fires.

I got a Blackberry for work. I named it RIMjob.

I’m in the midst of some work-related craziness. It's kinda like when you run a marathon and then they say "Nice warm up lap" and put up hurdles and strap sandbags to your ankles and blindfold you and spin you around and then you're all like "What the shit? Bring it on!"

I've heard someone refer to their job as "giving birth," but I think that's a bit of a stretch.

It’s ok if you don’t like me anymore.



I've come to terms with that.

I was talking to an old lady who was recovering from a stroke, and I felt a sneeze coming on. She kept on talking and I didn’t want to appear rude or, god forbid, sneeze on her. So I held it in. She thought I was making fun of her and got all pissed.

I didn't go see Seinfeld when he was in in town, and I'm ok with that.


This is what we call a “before” pic.

I didn't go see Mitch when he was in town, and I'm forever kicking myself for that.

Exfoliated sounds a lot more violent than it is. It sounds like a synonym for scalping.

We were in the gorge and they surrounded us. They descended upon Johnson. They exfoliated him. The savages.

Sometimes when I’m stuck at a traffic light, I do weird things with my tongue just in case the person in the car next to me is looking.

http://newslite.tv/2009/07/27/fullsize-house-to-be-built-wit.html

I booked a flight on Southwest Airlines just to hear them say, “Please turn off your electronic devices. As of Tuesday, our plane is one.”

Perhaps my favorite part about flying is wasting tons of gas trying to find economy parking.

A friend just told me that "Most things happen in the first 5 minutes and the last 8 minutes of a flight, so sit near an exit, be alert, don't fall asleep or read, or anything like that." The last time my plane took off, I was reading Nietzsche rant about how there is no god.



Sounds like he frequents http://www.realultimatepower.net/

The band down the street is playing a song I heard in the supermarket yesterday. Minus 5 rock points.







Bowls are unnecessary if you have a really large spoon.

Spooning leads to forking. And if you read Shakespeare, forking leads to knifing.

I randomly ran into someone from high school who appears to have developed an eating disorder since then. I’m glad to see he’s finally doing something with his life.


When a Mexican woman asks her husband for oral.

I hope I don’t take so long to get back to you again. But if I do, remember. It’s not the size of the time, it’s the notion of devotion.

xo.

CSU Summer Arts 09

Hello.

It's been a while since I posted anything meaningful.

Some might say we're still waiting.

Here is my example of why blogs should not be handed out to just anyone.

This is a brief summary of my July in Fresno:


Help. I'm in Fresno.

Seriously, though:


Sorry. Those who know me know I couldn't resist.

The CSU Summer Arts program is amazing, and I highly recommend it. It consists of two sessions, two weeks long each. During that time, you live with singers, actors, writers, painters, photographers, filmmakers, dancers, musicians, animators and a general assortment of drunks and potheads at CSU Fresno.



The togas came out. A big thanks to Bryan for covering up Bernardo's man junk.

There were several other uses for the bed sheets (that they get from the same place as the prison):


Turban.


Flying squirrel costume.


Needless to say, this is one of several cases, usually seen with this kind of focus.


Some pictures tell an entire story.

We kept busy, immersing ourselves in classes taught by CSU professors and world-famous industry professionals that run up to 14 hours a day, 6 days a week.

One catch was that housing included meals and there wasn't always time in between classes to throw down, let alone go off campus for real food. This often resulted in wrapping up food to go in a napkin (several actually, to mop up the grease) and the obligatory banana in the pocket (which actually came in handy when we were improvising scenes).


Cannibal.

Needless to say, a perpetual lack of sleep combined with eating warm mush every day led to some general wackiness.


Michael is the walrus. Not Bono.


Best polenta Spongebob ever.

I took the two writing courses: Short Script Writing and Narratives of Place. I guess that makes me a nerd amongst nerds.

It was pretty cool, though. I walked away from the first session with 6 short scripts (short films, animations and webisodes, each 2-15 pages long). They would say "You have two hours with which to eat lunch and write an entire script for workshop." It kicked my ass into shape and I am very happy with what I have.


Here we are filming a scene for our culmination. Matthew Jacobs (The Emperor's New Groove, etc.) directs. Upon reading one of my scripts, the first words out of his mouth were "Were you fucked by a priest?" I took his reaction and decided to have that script read for my culminating performance. I made tons of people uncomfortable. It was great.

We also learned from Karin Gutman (Fairly Oddparents), Joe Ansolabehere (Rugrats, etc.), Jeremy Warner (various short films), Kathy Uneda (professional script reader), and the great Jule Selbo (just IMDB her).


I bought them cake and made the class cookies.


This scene was born from an improv session. Currently, neither of the films have been posted online, but I'll keep you updated.

We saw some pretty amazing films, but Short Term 12 struck me like no other. It won Sundance and I highly recommend buying it.

The second session gave me around 40 pages of written work, some of it almost ready for submission.


I also got a ton of kickass new reading material.

I have to admit, working with Lance Olsen, Bob Gluck, Deborah Brown and Steve Church had me a little tingly. Doug Rice and Peter Grandbois were pretty cool, too.


Doug, Lance and Bob.


Rebecca Brown: Amazing writer with great taste in music.


Steve and Doug. Steve came in to work with us immediately after returning from Mexico. Peter stopped by on his way to Spain.


We took quite a liking to Lance.


We did most of our studying at The Red Wave.


It helped us feel good about ourselves.


Comfortable with our masculinity.


And talented.


Matt started the karaoke with this classic. It eventually led to a group effort of Springsteen's "I'm on Fire," dedicated to Doug.


We also took quite a liking to him.


He liked us too, as long as we were present in the moment and not attached to some fucking piece of technology.

Performances were given almost every night with the Friday at the end of each session being devoted entirely to student culminating performances.


I went to all 24 performances and 14 of the 16 culminations. And I don't regret most of them.


This is where Eliot Fisk sat. I would've taken footage of the actual show, but I was busy picking my jaw up off the floor. He played 11 pieces, a suite of 7 and came back for 5 encores. Youtube him. And bring a change of pants.


He also signed my ukulele. This makes me happy.


Fisk was one of the teachers of the guitar and flute class. Good people all around, and talented as hell. One of my suite mates, Cameron (red shirt), is now at Julliard.


A small snippet of their group culminating performance.


The songwriting class (shown) was taught by, among others, The Refugees. They have worked with Bob Dylan, Elton John, etc.


This is one example of the work done by the digital music class. Of course I hung out and played a bit of guitar with them. One said I must have some Latin me, considering how I was playing. I'm still not sure if he was coming on to me. After all, we did sing "Besame Mucho."


Another new experience for me was sitting front row at the opera for the singer/actors' culmination.


It being a comedy about the desecration of a corpse and the stealing of its willed possessions almost balanced out the fact that it was an opera.

There were two dance classes:


The first was amazing and taught by the Joe Goode Performance Group.

And the second:


Deborah Hay. People were walking out in the middle of the show, but I stayed, despite the dancer climbing on the pole next to my seat. I realize some people pay good money for that, but that's something I've never been into.


They were very inclusive of the audience. Murphy got up and danced with them before plugging the improv show later in the day.


They passed around a microphone and a professional dancer in the audience got heated and ripped into them. I only filmed the end of that, but I'm sure you understand.

I obviously didn't record every performance, but I did get plenty of the Chicago-Style Improv culmination:




Matt, another suite mate, proves that suicide is funny.

This is the next scene, in the mental hospital after his failed attempt.


Part 2 of Ferin's attempt to make a connection through yoga.


The next group, including Carl, another suite mate, as a bear rug.


The half brothers. Dad is going to be pissed that you killed the neighbor. But mostly that in doing so you broke the lawnmower.


Sorry, man. She, uh, left you and went to Spain. Yeah.


The audience gave this group the word "bra." It's one of the few scenes that didn't end up revolving around Samantha.


Meet Samantha. She's a lady.


Sam, her husband and her brother in a Wal Mart stockroom.


Erin (Sam) really carried this whole performance.


The third group I was able to film (there were 7 total).


The second part of this scene. Parker and Magnus have been captured after bringing weapons into Disneyland. Cassie plays Walt's ghost.

Improv closed out the final day.


40ish of us took over Marie Calender's the next morning before the drive home. It was a fun night.


It was easily the busiest month of my life.


But one of the most rewarding.


Grant bought me a frog while I was away. Best roommate ever.

Many other videos can be seen on my Youtube. Pictures are on my Facebook. If anyone else has documentation (especially of the 111 degree water balloon capture the flag war), please let me know.

This is dedicated to everyone I had the pleasure of meeting during our short month in Fres-yes.

Remember: It's not the time that counts. It's the notion of devotion.

I'm having the time of my life,

but I really don't want to be here.



This still isn't it, btw.