newyorkmachine

nsfw

2011-02-23T02:13:00.000-08:00

spread ti around, kids!!

quickie reviews.... JUST WATCH THE MOVIES!!

2011-02-18T22:30:00.000-08:00

CONFESSIONS (2010) A masterpiece, unexpected.
turned out to be my favorite film of 2010, most beautiful
revenge film ever lensed! even better than korean revenge
films (and i saw i saw the devil, and the chaser too!)

DREAM HOME (2010) A wicked, unflinchingly violent
film about a woman goign through any means to get her
dream apartment. B-R-U-T-A-L! Highly reccomended.

GANTZ (2011) Suprisingly sleek, and mostly faithful
adaptation of the gory pssimistic sci-fi actioner manga.
the 2nd half comes out later this year.
High recommendation fun stuff!

TRUE GRIT: Pretty looking film good acting,
don't know what the fuss is about, missing about
a half hour of character development, but the
actors do such a superb job with what little
they're given it's a fun little time killer.

In the process of watching A SERBIAN MOVIE...
very good, was expecting shitty exploitation film...
hideously grotesque and overtly sexual
(but nothing worse than in HBO series)
it's got the same pessimistic, arty vibe that martyrs
gave me which completely floored me.

b l a q u e: extended edition

2011-02-14T10:14:00.000-08:00

in the L.E.S.

2011-02-09T15:05:00.000-08:00

I had contemplated whether or not I was a terrible kisser

as both our faces crashed into one another.

The clicking of our front rows of teeth send an electrical shock

through my brain. I admire that slight pain.

It feels alive.

It feels like something has happened, and although we scrape each others enamel off

in a furious accident.

We're both inebriated, I more than she.

It always feels like the first time as I try to siphon the passion from someone else's lips.

the steam of our heat rising from exposed mouths dissipating into the winter sky.

My lip is bitten over and over and it's incredibly amazing and off setting. Then my ear,

then a nip at my neck.

I am dealing with a pro? Am I a terrible kisser? Oh No!

I am an incredible filth talker, but we're in public, and outside a bar, and it's weird.

My hands begin to travel, and my brain is fighting a clinical assessment with my

kissing style, my raging hormones, and a lack of equilibrium.

the kiss breaks off and small talk ensues.

I don't see her again.

Our passionate embrace stuck in time in the L.E.S.

ah.

2011-02-08T00:24:00.000-08:00

true story.

“And so,

the event rages on. the lights dimming,

the bodies pulsating and sucking the cold

out of the room. She approaches me, nose

nearly scraping mine.

“Oh god he’s so annoying.

I wish he didn’t come here.

I didn’t invite him.

I wish I can make out with anyone.

I want to just make out with anyone right now.

I don’t care who. I just want to do it.”

Her hot breath tumbles across my lower lip,

the hairs on the back of my neck raise.

This is what I’ve been waiting for, for a while.

She darts her head left and right, never leaving my personal zone.

I tilt my head down, eyes fixed on hers,

everyone else vanishing into a black void.

“How about me?” I poise the question with a naughty assurance.

Playfully. deadly serious.

It registers on her face my intentions and she pulls back. “Not now.”

somewhere a record needle scratches an imaginary 45.

I feel the gravity of the situation crushing down on my head. stunned.

“Not never.” I defeatedly reply.

her answer is mumbled, but answer enough.

hours later she makes out furiously with the annoying guy

as I pick up trash from the gallery’s floor.

end theme of DECEPTION w/photos

2010-03-31T01:34:00.000-07:00

stupor

2010-01-31T01:28:00.001-08:00

I recollected a moment,
a long time ago.
helping a friend who was staggering drunk,
back home.
feeling abject horror at her state.
making sure she would be okay,
as she went on to ignore me.

the foolish rush of blood to the noggin'
smitten with something that wasn't love,
nor lust . . . but need. that phase had passed,
we both had it out of our system.
but care was still in my heart somewhat.

I made sure she got home safe and sound,
while I took the long road back, dejected and disillusioned.
not worried about her feelings about me,
but my feelings about me.

flash forward, months after.
I, feeling dejected and disillusioned over
someone else entirely.
My feelings completely atrophied from this friend.
Yet we remained close . . . as close as acquaintances can be.

the night moved on,
the scene full of pariahs and sycophants.
androids, dolls, machines with pleasing aesthetics lined up.
phony, i drink, where have i gotten myself into?
what is this?
i drink.
i assume i will be funnier tonight. but no,
i will unleash a backlash. my body punishes me.

I have become the one staggering, blindly drunk.
the world gone topsy turvy.
a kaleidoscope of pavement, sky, and whirling lights.
loud conversations bubbling into murmurs of
inconsequential dialogue.
I beckon for her help, as I am clearly not fit to
walk the streets alone, since i had one too many.

i was a fool to think they actually gave a shit.
I was put in a car that dropped me 5 blocks away,
alone, teetering on the verge of blacking out.
into the wicked, dark night of an unforgiving city.

red

2010-01-11T19:57:00.001-08:00

RED (there is no home) teaser 3 from MPFILMS on Vimeo.

the gate

2010-01-03T19:39:00.000-08:00

there is a vortex that appears.
past midnight.
the sky will open, the black will swirl
into a luminescent white.
A great glowing eye from the heavens.
the only way to see it,
is to raise your hand,
palm outward. flat.
and slowly spread your fingers apart.

can you see it?
will you comprehend what it is,
when you do?

when your heart beat surges,
and the calmness eventually overtakes.
will you feel it?
will you know how to react.

will you be content?

absolute

2010-01-02T21:08:00.000-08:00

three hundred and sixty five days
internal chaos, self destruction and self loathing.
the faces that appeared and vanished in the blink
of an eye.
that eye punctured by the ugly sight of another world.
darkness creeping in. spinning. funneled into a mutated keepsake.
The snails pace of evolution.
the stolen kisses that led no where.
challenged libidos, justified the mistrust of others.
the disgust.
not falling. not slipping one's toe into the black abyss.
teetering. not becoming the shadow . . .
the shadow the malformed brain guarantees
it will provide a cushion. a safety net from reality.
not possible. not falling into the trap of
misanthropy. misogyny. the lulling call of her . . .
the one called absolute.

she beckons, but must not be shown audience to,
her song will whisper around the ears, but
the moment it hypnotizes, the moment it
travels through the canals, the bloodstream.
it is over. she must be rejected or she will
swallow one into the deep recesses of nothingness.

yule tide

2009-12-25T22:54:00.000-08:00

The rain sweeps across the highway outside of my window.
the trailing sounds of heavy wheels discharging the water,
a phantom moan of disappearing strangers.
Into the darkness they vanish.
It's Christmas night, I have gorged.
The addiction, compensating for what's no longer here.
The emptiness, the shadow play in my mind.
It can't be like this forever can it?
My psyche tugging my body with marionette strings
fueled by apathy.

I listen, the sounds of the rain drops pelting,
the asphalt, the Doppler effect.
If I commit myself enough.
If I focus enough.

I will become transparent,
I will become translucent,
I will lift into the sky like
the dampness does by morning time.

phone tag

2009-12-25T22:50:00.000-08:00

The final insult flung, she spat venom into my ear
through electric currents.
Flustered, frustrated, beyond repair.
I, monotone, defiantly replied "Don't call me anymore."
Thinking I was bluffing, a tiny cackle crept into her words
"Okay."
She smiled at the other end of the line, proud of not giving a shit.
I ended the call on my cell shaking with a static fury.
Two years later she calls again, and for the fifth time
I pass on picking it up, on hearing her voice again.
She is enveloped in the passage of time.

Welcome to the ether, bitch.

verbal spar.

2009-12-25T22:49:00.000-08:00

she called me an idiot. Ironically, I knew deep down, she was a moron. Vapid, empty, hollow shell of a deliciously sculptured goddess. We were made for each other like a bent key for a broken lock. I stared into her deep black eyes as she kept mouthing unintelligable words . . . my peace was diminished, I burst into flames.

"Ask Will" episode 1

2009-07-13T12:43:00.000-07:00

WARNING: OFFENSIVE LANGUAGE AND TOUCHY SUBJECT MATTER.

Ask Will is a short interview series, where I ask an
abundance of questions to a former co-worker Will.
I find him endlessly funny, and unabashedly unfiltered.
He will give his opinion, and not shy away from it.

EP 1: Pre-Obama election/current politics.

NOTE: All of the opinions heard and said in this
video are given by said main subject. I am not here
to objectify or slander anyone's beliefs,
be they political or religious. That being said, this
is a look at a young man's random thoughts about the
world we live in today.

I neither condone or object to one's beliefs, and allow
them to speak their mind. My opinions, unless asked will
be of my own, and not part of this video series.
I am merely interested in porviding the viewer with
compelling footage, and a look into the thought process
of individuals you may never have the chance to
converse with.

Breaking News

2009-07-06T21:58:00.000-07:00

It's something I just heard about, and it's absolutely shocking.
It's 12:57 AM, July 6th, 2009, and I'm hyperventilating as I write
this. Now, take a seat. (well do you stand at your computer,
you hipster-non-comformist scum.) This is real heavy.

Michael Jackson has passed away. I know, I know. it's terrible.

Okay, now you can have a moment of reflection for the loss of
our "King of Pop". I had to take a moment myself, whether to
actually capitalize the letters in that moniker. I are no English
major.

But seriously folks, what got me to write up this stunning
announcement was the footage of Michael Jackson's ghost
on "Larry King LIVE". Now I know you're thinking, the only
ghost on that show is Larry himself, but people are actually
claiming to see the gloved one's apparition loafing
around in his Neverland ranch.

Here's the video.
(accompanied with some copyrighted horror music)

Now, weirdos, ahem, I mean people are actually
debating this as paranormal fact. As you can see,
the shadow, er ah, Jacko slinks through some sort
of hallway vanishes into thin air. Now, this leads me
to the realization that people are more fucking nuts
than ever.

Seriously.

Poor Jermaine, a chance to bask in the light after all
these years of eating beans straight from the tin can, absolutely
shunned by society. The public, more in favor of his talented,
highly controversial brother. Now MJ is stealing his thunder
once again! Holy Mackerel, you done good, Mikey.

Which leads me to the celeb frenzy that occurs when one reaches
a status that few can. "Celebortality", because my penchant for
phrasing is awful. One can be canonized no matter what they did
or didn't do that leaves a stigma on them when they're alive,
but vanishes once they're no longer on this earth . . . er spiritually.
I'm sure 35% of his original body is there somewhere at the funeral.

No, I'm not trying to make light of the situation,
but it's amazing how quick the tide has turned in favor
of Jackson. I myself, who is somewhat an emotionless tool,
was caught off guard when I actually felt a jolt of sentimentality
hit me when I heard "The Way you make me feel" on
the radio the day of his death. I received a call informing me he
had died hours earlier, and I replied with the
flippant "Bullshit." There it was though,
Jacko gone.

A friend of mine commented that he thought
Jackson had absolutely no talent at all,
and didn't understand the big deal. While he
is a fair many years shy of my age, I tried to
explain Jacko's impact on the world without
sounding like a maniacal fan. Alas, he complains
that Jackson never wrote any music that
dealt with healing the soul and the world like
"Angels and Airwaves" and "Coldplay" do.
I kind of figured from there, that, ah he's probably
never listened to the music once. So I'll just let that
go. Musical tastes aside of course. Busting
your balls here, bro! What's the worst that
can happen to him, a bunch of saucy fruits in
lycra jackets tying their arms to his and having
a dance off?!

Unfortunately for Jacko, his negative buzz
stuck with him well after he was no longer relevant.
The abnormal lifestyle, the cosmetic surgery, giving
Marlon Brando a cameo in his
"blood on the dance floor" video. It goes
on and on. Although, now the public has been
rushing to cash in on Michael's notoriety,
and I don't blame people on wanting to
make money. Holy shit though, now I'm seeing as
much MJ paraphernalia as I do Obama shirts.

(That's an actual shirt. I kid you not. I facepalmed hard when i saw it
on sale at Union Square Park.)

Infact, I know a girl who's selling I heart MJ shirts, it's quite a smart,
simple design, and I'm sure when he comes back from hell
to drag her down, he'll look snazzy in one too. In final
remembrance of the quite talented Michael, I leave
you with one of his more rare collaborations
with a fine pop singer of the eighties, a Mr. Edward Murphy.

FRIDAY 6-8

2009-07-02T22:57:00.001-07:00

A FRIENDLY REMINDER FROM ANTIMOTION / F9

Please join us for some drinks + music on FRIDAY - JULY 3RD at ZAKKA
BOOKS in DUMBO, BROOKLYN, to celebrate the release of FUTR WRLD.

The store will feature artwork from the collection from 6 - 8. ALL WELCOME!

Thanks again for your support - ANTIMOTION / F9

For more info on this project visit:
http://anti-motion.com/futrwrld.html
or email:
info@anti-motion.com

for directions visit:
http://www.zakkacorp.com/contact.php

155 Plymouth St, Brooklyn, NY 11201

Link: <http://maps.google.com/maps?hl=en&q=155+Plymouth+St,+Brooklyn,+NY,+11201&ie=UTF8&split=0&gl=us&ei=IL81StjyJoGMtgfBkdi7CQ&ll=40.704343,-73.987083&spn=0.009256,0.014012&z=16&iwloc=A>

ZAKKA NYC
155 Plymouth St, Brooklyn, NY, 11201
*F Train York St. Station / 1st. Stop from Manhattan
718.801.8037

www.zakkacorp.com
info@zakkacorp.com

finding work in the new age depression

2009-06-25T09:42:00.000-07:00

So, scouring the internet for work is not only a massive effort of

placing correct "keywords" in search engines and hoping for
the best. The journey itself consisting of how many jobs out
there necessarily don't adhere to what you studied four years
in college for. While I do consider myself a Jack-off-all-trades
(yes I do note the second 'f')
I find it a complex nightmarish plunge into the unknown.
When 90% of the time you get work based on who you know
(and that's basically the template of my monetary gain for
some reason) I hardly know anyone anymore
because I do work so much.

Stuck as a corporate goon, not wanting to raise up
in one's position because time will be lost and there
will be no creative fulfillment is a hell i wouldn't
want to wish on anyone. So where do we go from here?
Daily visits to craigslist (and by daily I mean, by seconds
of each day) to scour work, that would be feasible as
compared to winning the lottery.

I scour the 'Arts and entertainment' as well as
the 'writing' positions, but in all honesty both are scarce.
The writing section you need to have a masters
in language, even though, clearly they can see that you
write well. It's not legitimate unless you
have that BFA in that field.

So on I search, banging my head against my keyboard.
Luckily enough, in times of desperation I've
begun to learn editing skills on my new Imac,
complete with Final cut pro. With that,
I have to purchase a new digital camera,
as well as new fire wires to complement the process
of new found skills. So there's that to look
forward to, but, the filming process
is a looming beast that's also problematic.

The main motivation right now is a mix
of two things, well, maybe three.
Justification for my BFA from Fashion Institute,
my artistic gratification, as well as my
unabashed desire and love for money.
I don't care, I like money, having money,
spending it and smoking cheap cigars and
acting obnoxious with my friends as we do it.
So I ask the many gods of this world to
set me on the right path so I can get back to
the fiendishly reaganesque levels of
debauchery.

But back to reality.

So where am I stuck looking? Well,
craigslist
simply hired
myspace jobs
monster

and those are the low rung of finding work in this world.

But as I build my pesky portfolio, that I have the worst
patience with. Books on Dreamweaver piled
upon my desk, I question myself, what am I
doing at this moment? Where have I gone wrong?
I realize, I was writing this post instead of
looking for new work.

byeeeeee!

i am not spartacus

2009-06-22T17:04:00.000-07:00

So this weekend was pretty uneventful, due to major storms,
boredome, poordome, people canceling, general lack of interest
of what I do and so on and so forth. How's that for a run on
sentence.

I find myself amazed at how much my A.D.D. affects me in
general situations, it's like a shark let loose in a fiesta,
constantly moving. I have to keep going or I'll just start
spiraling down in boredom and the creepy black hole of
depression starts to soak up my brain.

Anyways, this friday, hung out with some people that know
people that I hardly know. Which always makes it completely
uncomfortable for me. I always feel like I have to be on,
when in actuality no one really gives a shit.

That is a tale for another time. What's more important, is the
introduction to that tale. So i was summoned to RADEGAST beer
hall, in Williamsburg Brooklyn. Where forearmed sized mugs of ale
will set you back about 14 bucks. It's a nice little spot to chat
with friends, get to know knew people, oggle the beerwenches.

So as I make my way to the bar, my friend, has not arrived yet, and I
circle the two areas about two times. Later on I would find
out that the people I was supposed to sit with were already laughing
and joking, completely oblivious to who I was and
vice versa.

So on one go around, I head to the bathroom, and take out my
illegally opened container of alcohol and ... oh nevermind.

SO, I'm waiting in the restroom waiting for any available slots.
Some inebriated guy comes by, and he's looking nervous.
I'm just avoiding eye contact. Then he does that usual, dance of
anxiety. So I try to give that reassuring nod of, "I know. I know."

He's like "My friends in the stall, but I see four feet"

So I look closely at the bottom of the occupied stall, and sure enough,
there were two people inside, or a shaved deer with vans.
I was like oohhh, snap.. there's a hook up going on. I realize how
terribly empty my life is... then the door jolts open.
The most zestiest man with light eyes, orange-iest tan and
bleached hair steps out...
and announces

"Hello my name is SPARTACUS"

I can only assume he was homosexual because not only
was he dressed better than I (which is not hard to do)
He twinkled like those vampires from TWILIGHT.
the anxious guy had a look of fear on his face, and I figured
there was no chick in that stall. I promptly spun around, because
magically I didn't have to go anymore. Stepped out the restroom and
hightailed it.

Back into the brouhaha, I finally met with some people,
was already drunk, but due to my A.D.D. and lack of
women, and the prospect of early work the next
day, I dejectedly called it a night.

Lest you people think I am homophobic,
I am not. I'm just not cool with dudes
that call themselves after 1950
Kirk Douglas films.
(My gay friends will agree to this)

So godspeed to you, Spartacus, whomever you are,
you had more action than I got, I will think twice
about going into any stall from now on.
To affect my life is like to affect others
on the heels of rosa parks, J.F.K.,
Neda and Obama.

from the shadowzone!!

2009-05-07T21:02:00.000-07:00

So it's been a pretty eventful(less) time in my life
these past few weeks. The Antagonist Art show was
a success, all my 30 plus business cards were taken,
didn't receive one phone call or e-mail from anyone,
so I assume everyone used the cards as throwing stars
and/or alternate toothpicks with the nearby pizzeria.
(Hell i got one free sicilian and a drink comped!)

Anyhoo, with that dangerous headfirst plunge into
the artist society, (I'm more of the fringe type since
I'm so hip NO ONE knows about me) I had to go out and plan
what to do next. I have a friendly interplay with Antagonist Art
Movement people (michelle, Un and all) so I was flattered when
they said it was cool if I wanted to continue doing work with them.

Apparently the art director for the Ramones liked my stuff,
so that was very cool to know. Next project on my slab is now
going into hyper mode.

Going into the Antagonist art deal again though,
I'm working on writing a short film for them that will be artistic
and trippy and just plain watchable. I'm working with Mike Robayo,
you can check out some of his reels like this one right here...!

I've handed in the black and white images for a twisted comic book
my friend Danny albert has writen (Now I have two other books
I will work on with him.)

I am writing (!) a series of illustrated novels
with my artistic hero Winnie Chang. She was a
manhua artist in Korea, but got burnt out by it all.
She is giving me all the notes and basically,
I am going to pretty it up with words while she
does all the gorgeous art.
You can check out her site @ http://winnie76.com/

Other than that I've seen some really messed up
stuff too, and I'll update on that later. The nyc transit
system is probably hell on rails. That last ying yang battle
I saw was topped by the utter ugly side of humanity
when ... ah I don't want to get into that into this blog,
the next one... here are some puppies.

Previews for the Niagara show

2009-03-30T18:38:00.000-07:00

these are just tiny sections of much larger pieces appearing
at the NIAGARA ANTAGONIST THURSDAY! SHOW.
I'm nervous, but genuinely excited to show them out there.
Hope to see you all there.

ANTAGONIST THURSDAY! ONE NIGHT ONLY ART SHOWS.

THURSDAY APRIL 2ND 9PM-2AM

21 and UP!!

Myself (Alex Mercado) and Ramon Trif will
have some of our work on display
@ the NIAGARA BAR 112 ave A.
L.E.S. in the EAST VILLAGE, MANHATTAN N.y.

come see our art, drink, be merry, mingle, make connections and have fun.

http://www.myspace.com/niagarabarnyc
http://ramonvtrif.blogspot.com/
http://alexmercado.blogspot.com

ANTAGONIST THURSDAY! ONE NIGHT ONLY SHOW

2009-03-28T18:16:00.001-07:00

ANTAGONIST THURSDAY! ONE NIGHT ONLY ART SHOWS.

THURSDAY APRIL 2ND 9PM-2AM

21 and UP!!

Myself (Alex Mercado) and Ramon Trif will
have some of our work on display
@ the NIAGARA BAR 112 ave A.
L.E.S. in the EAST VILLAGE, MANHATTAN N.y.

come see our art, drink, be merry, mingle, make connections and have fun.

http://www.myspace.com/niagarabarnyc
http://ramonvtrif.blogspot.com/
http://alexmercado.blogspot.com

this weekend mar 26th on....

2009-03-23T23:41:00.000-07:00

things to do this weekend . . .
So as I arrived back from the wonderfully boring
landscape of downtown Orlando, I realized, I have
a hefty plate of “to do” items back in NYC.

I have to prep for a tentatively scheduled
“Antagonist Art Movement” show in
The L.E.S. (wow, I’m so trendy, I’ll be
Sure to wear my skinny jeans, and hipster
Glasses!) So I am genuinely excited for that.

At the Marianne boesky gallery
The works of Yoshitomo Nara are
Being displayed from feb 28th till March 28th,
So CHECK IT OUT

http://www.marianneboeskygallery.com/

This week down to OULU in Williamsburg, Brooklyn.
http://www.oulunyc.com/ to have some farewell
drinks with my friend, Iris, who is a philanthropic
sweetheart going off to teach English to students
in Thailand. Go Iris, go!

Also check out,
The KRAZY! Showing at the JAPAN SOCIETY
Remember Fridays are free 6-9

http://www.japansociety.org/

Friday night, my home girl DJ Xio will be dj’ing
At REVOLUTION! At the Bruckner Bar

www.myspace.com/revolutionny

Although, my satuday night is free (so far),
let's see what's happening then,
hope to see you ppl out there, supporting the arts...

toodles!

that gross story

2009-01-27T23:26:00.000-08:00

WARNING, DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU EATING,
OR A QUEASY.

So this past Saturday was quite the
eventful one, with my completely numb
acknowledgement that I was going to audition
for a band. My friend and I were scheduled to try
out as dual vocalists for a “Screamo” type band.
All the previous week, we collaborated on lyrics
(surprisingly it’s quite easy to work with him.)
I, with the haunting past of O.C.D., reread the lyrics
chicken scratched into my notepad about ten billion
times.

I’m the melodic vocalist, while my friend does the
screaming thing. I have no idea how one can abuse their
vocal cords to release a sound so furiously engaging.
I get jealous.

This is kinda what we're going for.

"This could be anywhere in the world" - Alexisonfire

Anyways, so I have this creeping little notion in my
head all morning, about how it’ll go, will they like us?
Will they like me? Will I screw up royally.
How will I sound. Will my vocals fit the music?
(I saved tracks off of their Myspace page through an flash
system that keeps it as MP3’s, easy as that. Playing them over
and over.) So I tried not to worry about it too much, I mean
I sang in a choir as a child.

Hell, I was kicked out of the choir as a kid for laughing
at everyone when they forgot the lyrics to the song we
were performing at the unveiling of a new building.
I mean, it was hilarious!

Anyways, I kept it out of my mind. At work,
I was just focusing on the time left for the day.
So I decide to further forget about my future
date with destiny by getting lunch. Yes, that’s it,
I’ll get some lunch!

So back to the O.C.D. thing, I can not leave a place
without furiously washing my hands.
(Hell I’ll open doors with sleeves!) I lie to myself and
say that I’m doing this so I won’t catch a cold that’ll
ruin my performance. But we all know it’s because
I might just be a lunatic.

I’m washing my hands at the restroom, speaking to a
friend, when I look over my shoulder. I hear a shuffling
of feet, and a man with ginger hair and a horrified
expressioncomes running in, hand clutching over his mouth.
I see something begin to stream between his fingers..
a mucous-like, orange-colored fluid. I know what’s going
to happen, because in that split second I spin into the
mirror and hear the pitter patter of my entire back
showered with the insides of someone’s stomach.
It was like a burst of air, and my back feeling quite drenched.

The was was literally covered in something and my
outline in the center of it. I can’t tell you the irony of the
moment where I wanted to wash my hands from the dirt
and then as easily caught a possible AIDS-bath. I ran so
fast into a janitor’s closet and stripped it’s not even funny.
Cursing, and in panic, I scrambled to see a water hose and
Spun the handle for release. I didn’t hold onto the hose,
and comically, much like a three Stooges sequence, the
hose whipped around uncontrollably and doused me
even more. I had a friend pick up a new shirt for me as
I laughed off the moment. Fearing I would run into the
assailant again. I didn’t want to see him, didn’t want an
apology. I didn’t want to be anywhere near that guy’s
mouth opening towards me again. I was so disgusted,
I wanted to just kinda peel this first layer of skin off or
something.

YUCH.

I mean I had to laugh it off (but cry deeply inside)
But I looked at it like It was a sign of good luck…
not the kind of luck I’d look for. But whatever.

Yeesh.

They told us to come back and audition again, so…
Thanks, pukey.

- Alex M.

The one where I see two old guys fight

2008-12-19T17:36:00.000-08:00

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 countless
times, I’ve been on trains with people that light their
cigarette right on the train, and none of us chicken shit
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 every
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.

The nightmare continues

2008-11-05T22:30:00.000-08:00

So, I entered a contest at CHUD.COM to
go to the premiere press screening of
"REPO: TEH GENETIC OPERA".
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!

GN LOOKOUT#1: OSAMU TEZUKA'S BUDDAH vol. 1: Kapliavastu

2008-10-07T11:24:00.000-07:00

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.

OSAMU TEZUKA INFO
AMAZON LINK for BUDDHA VOL. 1
CHIP KIDD LINK
OSAMU'S OTHER BOOK PHOENIX

Almond chicken with honey lime disaster

2008-10-06T20:04:00.000-07:00

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 Cdkitchen.com
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
PEANUT BUTTER CHICKEN CUTLETS (**slobber**)

The Fruity Wink

2008-10-04T20:01:00.000-07:00

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)

ARTICHOKE'S
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 . . .

FABRICLIVE 37: CASPA & RUSKO

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