Friday, December 19, 2008

The one where I see two old guys fight

So a couple of weeks ago, I was taking a number train

back home. It was late, near midnight, following a long
hard day of laboring for “the corporation.”
You know one of those days, where you’re physically,
spiritually and mentally exhausted.
Actually, I don’t know many days unlike that.
So I’m sitting on the side of the train, which is opposite to
the platform, In the center of the car, near the doors that
don’t open to the public. The car is barely full, and this
gives me the freedom to zone out from everything.
My I pod blasting something I wouldn’t be able to enjoy

because of course, the freaks come out at night.

A rather intoxicated gentleman, who looked like
Samuel L. Jackson stumbles in, directly opposite of me.
already my danger antennae pops up, due to the fact
he’s holding an open bottle of “Olde English 800” and
has some sort of spliff/cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Having an open container on a train and a cig in his mouth
(unlit) already showed this dude could give a shit less
what anybody cared about. I mean I’ve seen this coun
times, I’ve been on trains with people that light their
cigarette right on the train, and none of us chicken shi
passengers said a thing.

So, I’m keeping an eye on Sam Jackson as he rambles,
And cusses loudly. At what, I have no idea, My I pod was
drowning it out. He’s banging his fist on the door ev
stop, and mumbling some incoherent nonsense. Everyone
on the train is keeping their cool. I guess in NYC, we’ve
pretty much seen this crap before.

(i would have no problem with this Olde English 800 weilder)

Hell, I saw a naked guy walk into a train once, with his
Clothing tucked under one arm and his hospital slippers still
on. I mean imagine, filthy feet! That would just be disgusting.
So Sam Jackson starts to talk to an old guy who looks like
Clint Eastwood sitting down next to him. I don’t know what
about, but I thought it was probably some friendly drunk talk.
Seconds later the drunk guy looks like he’s trying to hug Clint
and Clint’s pushing him away. Then that’s when you see no
good can come of this.

So geezer Clint gets up, and is getting ready to get out of the train
At the next stop. He doesn’t want to exit where Jackson is,
Just to avoid conflict I guess. Because I can barely hear Jackson
Berating him, in I’m sure Shakespearian complex dialogue.
Clint goes to the exit door opposite from me, and I’m like,
“Yes, here it comes.” Because I can’t be just a witnesses to
the bizarre event, it always has to play out to end up being
Somewhere extra near to my vicinity.

Clint gets to the door, and the train stops, Jackson has
followed him, talking smack the whole way. As Clint makes
his way out, there’s an electricity in the air. A heavy foreboding
silence that was a precursor what was going to happen next.
Then Sam Jackson swung his open palm at lightning speed
and slapped the shit out of the back of Clint’s head. It was
like an earth shattering sound of thunder escaped the palms of that
drunkards hand!

I almost guffawed, because I’m a semi-scumbag, but
it was pretty screwy. I was wondering whether to do something
heroic. I’m sure many of us were, but like in reality, witnesses
usually do two things, “Jack” and “Squat!”

When I was a child, I witnessed two guys trying to abduct a
woman on the street, and everyone was standing out there
dumbfounded. As if we were watching an improvisation group
with some strange interactive skit that no one wanted to
participate in. At least in that instance, a mysterious third guy
came out and smashed a bottle right over the head of one of the
attackers. One of the creeps had to drag the other one away,
I didn’t want to be late to school, so I ran. In my defense,
It was Catholic school and those running it would’ve made
my day hell.

Back to the current situation, I toyed around in my head, what
I should do, should I drop kick this guy from behind?
Can I flip him over that sign? I mean I could, the guy was old.
Of course I did nothing, but to my surprise, Clint spun around and
Started throwing wild old man punches at his assailant.
It was like watching a gladiator battle, but with two old farts!
That was my cue to get up and walk towards the train conductor’s
Door. I had kept my eye on the giant Olde English 800 bottle,
And I knew eventually it would come into play.

Of course it did.

Jackson swung that bottle around, but he was so smashed his hits
would only slightly connect, the neck of the bottle would just
click against Clint’s neck or shoulder blade, causing no damage.
The two combatants moved into the car, after Sam Jackson’
comically lost his footing and did a goofy split due to his liquor
splashing underneath him. He regained his semi-composure and
the two continued their retirement home Mortal Kombat.

Thankfully, two ballsier individuals broke the fight up.
Their faces annoyed with their train ride possibly being
extended due to some asshole throwing around punches
and glass bottles. The train makes it to my stop and the
conductor is completely oblivious to what’s going
on merely feet away from him. I knock on his window to
alert him, and I swear if there was enough room in his
mobile cubicle, he would’ve done a back flip. I frightened
him so badly, he gave me a disgusted, flippant look. Like
I was about to ask him what were the next stops for the train.

When I, and other exiting passengers bestowed upon him
the knowledge of a royal rumble in his midst, he a gave an
equally frustrated look. I turned around, out of the station
and made my way home. An exciting way to end the day.
It made me sick to my stomach.

Then i had a PB&J and forgot about it.

Wednesday, November 5, 2008

The nightmare continues

So, I entered a contest at CHUD.COM to
go to the premiere press screening of
Why? You ask? (I assume you care enough
to ask, you little devil.) Is because I love
terrible movies.

I am a glutton for punishment!

Have you ever seen my wardrobe!??!

Anyways, I caught wind of REPO, when
I heard the synopsis of the film dealt
with a futuristic society and repossession
of internal organs. I mean how can you
go bad with that?! It was also a hybrid of
Techno music and Opera, which almost
trumps my love of sitars and accordions!

Anyways, here's a trailer to the movie with
the maniacally cheesy synth-rock score.
My heart palpitated in leaps and bounds
when I heard it. I ... must ... see .... this.

Also for the fact it stars GILES from
Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

I mean, come on, doesn't that make you want
to run AWAY froma movie theater.
I feel though, I must run towards it... to
bask in it's horrific glory.
(Yes, that was Paris Hilton somewhere in there.)
Now in defense of myself, I did say I love terrible movies,
I say that with an ASTERISK floating lazily to the side.
(Although ironically I used none at all!)

I will not support movies that are downright awful,
I saw two in a row this October, "Max Payne" and
"Saw 5". It was one-two punch that almost put me out of
commission, then I made up for it with "Let the right one in"
A Swedish film based on of of my all-time favorite novels,
that's been getting some considerate buzz as of late.
I liked the film, but the movie (as always) paled in comparison.
*Read the book!! (I used an asterisk there.)

So anyways, I find out a few minutes ago, I won the said
contest to go to the private screening of REPO, where's
the calamitous event here you ask? (and I guess you
still care!) Well, my other half of my vocal duo picked a week
in advanced for tomorrow to be the day we practice before
our big audition on Saturday for a new band.

Yes I sing, like a bird, if you will know.

So I'm biting my lip, because I'm wondering if I can juggle both,
This I doubt. I know there are much more concerning
dilemmas (like people trying to find a place to sleep and eat, etc)
Anyways, this will be my hell to deal with,
as distraction for bigger problems.

Also, I missed out going to a mustache-party today...
I grew this thing out for no reason!

Tuesday, October 7, 2008


What can I say? But a captivating graphic
novel from "God of Manga" Osamu Tezuka.
(creator of Astro boy and the like) Starting off,
Tezuka's style is much more reminiscent of older
American counterparts, such as Tex Avery and the
Warner brother's lot. Not to diminish this, you can
clearly see where current anime takes it's
templates from the master, with the exaggerated
eyes, and breathtaking landscape and details. His
work though isn't so uniform, so to speak.
I really enjoyed his work on the Phoenix anthology series.

The character designs evoke more of a
Disney-ish feel, of clearly lined, very simple
makeup. I, myself, enjoy comics, or graphic
novels that have very simple cartoonish
characters, yet the story is the complete
opposite taking on serious themes.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not stuck in
that mindset, but, I do have an affinity
towards dueling opposites even in storytelling
in the visual medium. This is a prime example
of that type of drastic interplaying.

This story focuses primarily on two
protagonists as well as other major
players. It's not so much as there is
a main character so to speak,
even though, the book is clearly titled
BUDDHA, he's merely shown as a child
in vignettes that don't particularly play
a role in the main story. Yet, I leave that
mention with an asterisk, because while
the main narrative is playing out, his story is
directly affected by the plot.
Yet it doesn't work in vice versa.

Tatta above, Chapra below

Coming to the main protagonists of this
tale, there is the sweet natured, Chapra,
and the ne'erdowell street urchin Tatta.
Both are living extremely difficult lives, due
to the caste system which is highly pervasive
in the Indian culture. Suffice to say these two
lives intersect, then intertwine with
disastrous results. Not necessarally of their
own doing so to speak, but of the unfortunate
stigma attached to them for not being birthed
in the "right" bloodline.

Now I don't mean to belittle the importance
of other characters, such as Chapra's
mother, and the Brahmin priest Naradatta,
are integral to the plot. There are protagonist
and antagonists all over the place, without the
overall structure being muddled. A highly
skilled storyteller like Tezuka is able to craft
with seemingly ease. The overall structure of
the piece is highly political, spiritual, saddening,
yet peppered with humor to alleviate some of the shocking
moments which occur in the book.

It chronicles the rise of Chapra from skilled
marksman on the lowest rung of the caste
system to the adopted son of a warrior general.
As well as, the tough little scamp Tatta who
has godly magical powers, seeking vengeance
for various reasons. Both playing an integral
role, I believe, to a larger story. The idea of warring
nations and the public that suffers beneath them
is something we can all relate to. Since this Graphic
novel is the first in a series of books. I will say it is
defenitley worth it to take a look at this book, it
marries the ideals of Buddhism without feeling
preachy, I am not a practitioner of said religion,
But I like to see what else is going on in this world.
(though this probably is the least correct way to do it!)

Anyways, the book, though it's the beginning,
certainly has a thrilling ending that I was certainly
not prepared for, but has a seed planted for the future
editions. Plus Chip Kidd (my favorite cover artist)
designed all the book jackets. So just for wonderful
art alone take a look at this book.

Chip Kidd's spines for the book jackets

Available at all stores and the New York public library.


Monday, October 6, 2008

Almond chicken with honey lime disaster

So after weeks of putting it off, I decided to
go through with a recipe that caught my eye
a couple weeks ago. It's temptingly called
"Almond chicken with Honey lime sauce".
The recipe can be found at
or RIGHT HERE. Well anyways, suffice to say
it came out a bit, er. bland. The fact that

2 whole boneless, skinless chicken breasts, halved
2 tablespoons flour
1 egg
2 teaspoons soy sauce
1/2 teaspoon black pepper
3/4 cup finely ground almonds
3/4 cup corn flake crumbs, crushed
1 tablespoon Vegetable oil
1/2 cup apple juice
1 lime, juiced
2 teaspoons cornstarch
1/4 cup honey

is all you really need to work with is, fine...
yet, i didn't have corn flakes.
(did you know, the creator of corn flakes
advocated women getting a heinous
procedure done to prevent them
from *ahem* having fun alone?

yeah. when you read up on that dude,
you won't want to support him, no wait,
he's probably dead, right? yeah.
I'm sure of it. Don't support his ghost
I assume.

(Protip: as a child, I was such a fatso,
that i didn't have frosted flakes, I'd have
corn flakes and dump copious amounts
of sugar on them. It tasted like hell.)

I also snorted a pile of salt after watching
"Scarface" on television.

Anyways, I didn't have any cornflakes,
so Guerilla-style, I used strawberry flavored
Special-K (not the cat tranquilizer drug)
and sifted out all the freeze dried disgusting berries.
anyways, grinded the almonds like so, and I got to
say once it came to the point of breading the chicken
with the mixture of almonds and fake cornflakes
The breasts looked quite enticing. (mind out of gutter, plz.)

Sadly though, the almond chicken went the way of
another experiment, which i forgot. Yet, my
experimentation with the Corn muffins went swimmingly.
It was bland tasting, even with the lovely almond coating.
there was nothing, I'm sure it was of my failure of some sort,
since it got 5 star reviews (thought the collected internet's
sense of taste is highly questionable, due to the existence of
furry pornography.)

Anyway give the recipe your own crack see how it comes out
for you, and if it's delicious. UP YOURS and dave me a slice.

also, next on the agenda is Onion soup with shiitake mushrooms,
and for my tongue to reach the zenith of pleasure

Saturday, October 4, 2008

The Fruity Wink

So, once again, braving the cavernous labyrinths of the
New York City subway system, I once again stumble
across the creepiness of people in general.
But that's towards the end of the story . . .
Alas there will be no moral with this tale,
only a fierce, finger-wagging warning to you youths
out there who aren't plagued by A.D.D.
(ironically, like yours truly.) to make it through
two paragraphs on this blog.

The day started as any other boring day at "the corporation",
yet I won't discuss what happens there, because as always,
it's moot. Not the boyishly clean cut 4chan founder mind you.
(evil things lurk there, stay away) Nothing of importance
occurs there, so let's just skip that black hole of an existence.
There is, funny enough, a coworker who I've learned called
me a "Douche bag" (with-a-capital-D) behind my back.
I was infuriated about this news (relayed to me by a friend)
Because, said offender has that look of, oh say, a rather
degenerate person who should be sitting across
from Chris Hansen, then fleeing and getting tased
by police. That's what that guy looks like.

This I can with confidence since
I've been compared to Brad Pitt...

no wait, Carlos Mencia. . .

Ah, and I've never forgiven the girl for saying it.

Anyway, I digress, see how
you've made me a chatty cathy?

So odd moment of the day today was making
my way to the mecca of pizzerias (and religious people,
I'm not equating a calling to a slice, so forgive me, I
can't find a better comparison)
(photo not by me)

14th street (between 1st and 2nd)

Ah yes, Artichokes. The greatest pizzeria in the city
(well to me at least.) the slices are hearty, and chock
full of mozzarella, and artichoke and whatever the
hell else is in pizza... ah yes dough. At four dollars
a slice, it's forgivable, because the slice is three times
the size of a normal NYC slice. (Which now cost upwards
to 2.75, due to I think milk taxes going up)

And also it's run by Italians? I mean what? Who's seen
that in a while? Putting my inherently unfunny racist
humor aside. The pizza is good. The Artichoke slice is
breathtakingly, mouthwateringly, great-adjectively
excellent. I mean yes. I've sworn off all other "regular"
pizza because of it. A whole pie is twenty six dollars,
and I assume it would be the size of an umbrella with
about 6 slices in it. Who knows though.
When I'm at the perfect anorexic weight, I'll find out.

So yes, this has become about pizza, and no.... there's
nothing odd about that. I'll do a whole blog about artichoke,
later, not today. Well anyways, So I make my way over there,
and of course a little line is set up (or the queue at the
Europeans say, like they say toilet or loo, awwwww!)
I'm like "No I want my pizza now!" in my head...
anyways, right before I make the end of the line.

I see this

or well it was a person dressed in this suit,
It was the little woman image from the
female bathroom. (Not that I go into women's bathrooms,
well only once, but a trick was played on me, and I'm not
getting into it.) I see this thing/person stand right
behind one of the patrons and I make a quick beeline to
just outside the line, because I didn't want to become part
of some performance art.

I've been dryhumped against my will before and
I didn't want to receive such attention, let alone,
in public, again! So i quickly scanned the area like
the periscope of a sub. Left and right, right and left.
I was seeing if someone was at least taking a photo for
some guerilla art piece. So no, all I saw were dirty
hippies and clean hippies (skinny jeans people) So this
made my realization much more frightening.
The thing stood there posing, for a second,
I just kept looking around. Finally the thing
sauntered off, and I stepped right behind the
guy the thing was accosting. He said nothing,
I said nothing. All was good, though a gentleman
behind me with a camera also waited in line
for pizza stood behind me. He had a camera and
I was tempted to tell him there was some sort of
creature lumbering around uptown waiting for
him to capture it in all its' glory.

Ah well.

Bought two slices, One for now and one to heat up over
the weekend. Unfortunately the first slice was tiny so I
ended up eating both like a grotesque beast... but by all gods it
was delicious.

So anyways, I recover from the explosion of taste
(and brain nerve killing from my Aspartame fueled Diet Pepsi)
and started down to the subways. The trains were all
in a tizzy due to construction. So i had to make a couple
of connections here and there. And I sat across from an alluring,
attractive girl who stared at me for a full second before
her boyfriend started making out with her. So i couldn't
tell if I was going to get a look
of disgust, disturbed, or that haunting wink.

Ah well.

So I'm wiping my glasses down (only for cosmetic purpose
mind you, I'm no nerd, just a dweeb) and I look over to my
left and see an older man, in what i can say is like a fishing
cap. Carrying a large pink duffel bag, it had some sort of
cartoons on it, but it didn't register,
because when my glance slowly slid over his face he looked
me straight in the eyes
and winked.

Like a come hither wink. This disturbed me to such lengths,
that i basically plastered my face to the opposing window...
I mentally began taking baths. Also he got off the same
stop as I, and I really tried to leave last off the train,
since he got off first. By some strange happenstance
he was behind me as the crows was headed down the
stairs at our stop, I noticed this and as smoothly as possible,
ran busting through the crowd. I feared my poor sweet
derriere was to be pinched. THAT SCOUNDREL!

I'm not homphobic, mind you, I fight for gay rights.
The more gay men, the more frustrated, beautiful women!

Anyways, the moral to the story is, ah yes, there was no moral.

Go eat some Artichoke, and tell them Alex sent you.
that will mean Jack squat.


What I listened to while writing this . . .


The album is amazing! I can't explain it...
it's just TOUGH!! (not tough to explain,
it's just TOUGH, son!)