Monthly Archives: May 2010

Whole Lotta Love [archive]

yeah, it don’t stop, yeah it don’t quit…. peace happiness and love overflowing from a thirtieth-floor fountain.

Allison was a birthday present that came to me one day late, but i didn’t mind. within an hour or two of her arrival we went to Fort Funston; i think she really missed the hang gliders. too bad the wind wasn’t so good. the only things in the sky were epic motherfucking clouds, silly little metal planes, and birds of all shapes and sizes, but mostly crows. we also caught a little beetle crawling along. blazed some new trails. i’m always happier after going to that place. my favorite in the world for sure.

and then we got El Faro! fuck yeah burritos! alright! and then we watched Sin City, finally, after years of people telling me that it was right up my alley. and they weren’t wrong. who can complain about tits and guns? not me. but still, it was just ok. the best chapter was the one with that superhuman freak dude that just kicked everyone’s asses constantly. that was fun.

apparently Allison had been feeling nostalgic for more than just hang gliders, because the next day i found myself in san bruno hitting little white balls in the same direction for an hour with long metal sticks. no but really, it was fun… Danny came with us. driving range > golf.

for dinner, the girl and i drove down the Embarcadero to the financial district, where we met up with the girl’s cousin and her fiance at their apartment. they are super sweet. we all had had dinner once a couple years ago around the same time of year at the Stinking Rose in North Beach. this time we hit up some scrumptious burger joint near where they lived. my burger had bacon and a fried egg on it. need i say more? with our stomachs beyond happy on beer and buns, the four of us walked to the water’s edge and gazed upon the glowing Bay Bridge. nothing like a sexy San Francisco sight after a delectable dinner.

Allison and i didn’t really know what to do next, so we decided to drive over to this old saloon in North Beach (supposedly the oldest in the whole city; that is, maybe 150 years old). we never made it there, though. first, we stopped at this fudge shop and picked up some delicious treats. then we kept on walking to City Lights Bookstore, this independent bookstore-publisher combination founded in 1953 by Beat poet Lawrence Ferlinghetti. they’re famous for facing an obscenity trial after publishing Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and Other Poems in 1956. i was going crazy, so many great books, i want the whole goddamn Pocket Poets Series. i picked up NUMBER ONE, Ferlinghetti’s Pictures of the Gone World. two books i’m currently reading:

my parents + my Uncle Ron + my Aunt Janice met up with us at the bookstore, and brought us over to Caffe Trieste for rightly bitter cappuccinos and rightly sweet family stories. Allison loved my Uncle Ron and definitely got some insight into where ronny ii came from. (side story: according to Behind the Name, Ronny is the diminutive form of Ronald, which itself is the Scottish form of Ragnvaldr, an Old Norse name composed of the elements regin “advice, counsel” and valdr “ruler.” moral: you can call me Ragnvaldr.)

caffeinated and loved, we took a little midnight drive to Ocean Beach to see if we could crash any cool bonfire party. i ended up mostly being paranoid about my car getting CITED or TOWED in the beach parking lot and holy shit i just realized that if you take the ‘e’ out of ‘beach’ you have ‘bach.’ that’s cool. but yeah, i had to wake up early the next morning, so we didn’t linger long. (no matter, insomnia [among other things] struck like a mother that night. no matter, the night ended well, though late.)

Danny graduated on Saturday. congratulations boy! sorry about the location…

church is so awful. i really can’t stand it at all. people reciting shit they don’t even understand or care to think about, a motherfucking richly garbed asshole in the front preaching (literally, preaching) to us what we need to do to “get to heaven” or something, a motherfucking richly garbed building encircling us, protecting us from the disgusting sin of the outside world. churches should let anyone enter. churches should be sanctuaries for the poor and dying and homeless and hungry, but instead they are king-fucking-sized beds for the rich and content to make themselves richer and more content. google “puke.”

anyway, i enjoyed the part where some Junipero Serra High School authority read the words “Danny ****,” whereupon my dad, older brother, and couple friends screamed and howled out in defiance of the explicit instructions to not cheer for particular individuals. i was trying to get escorted out by cathedral security, but it didn’t work, unfortunately.

in between graduation and graduation party, Adam made it to my house from Santa Cruz. while i was getting dressed, while my mix cd was burning, while Christian was driving over, Allison, Adam, and i lollygagged hardcore. we drummed, we spun the disco ball in the sun, we danced. it was beautiful. Cut Copy is actually kinda good.

so what do you get when you combine brothers, mothers, fathers, uncles and aunts from Arizona, cousins from southern California, cousins from northern California, parents’ co-workers, friends from elementary school, friends from middle school, friends from high school, friends from college, and whiskey, wine, and disco? a really fucking awesome graduation party. thanks, mama and papa! thanks Quicksilver Messenger Service! thanks Broken Social Scene! thanks Bob Marley! thanks Jose! thanks everybody! as for Tori: let’s just say you better have made it to Sasquatch!

naturally, i didn’t wake up feeling like the million bucks i probably raked in from presents. still, with the help of certain accoutrements and various ambiguous activities, i was restored to something resembling happiness. but my legs were still shaky. oh but then Allison and i cooked delicious beggel sandwiches with melted jack cheese and oranjuice.

merry, weathered, post-egg ion, we flew over to SFMOMA to stare at modern art for a few hours with Mark, Erin, Christian, Adam, and his parents. here are a few of my favorites from the exhibitions:

Rene Magritte, Personal Values (1952)

can you believe how hard it is to find a good quality version of a goddamn Magritte painting on the Internet? what is this? anyway, that’s the best i could do, but it doesn’t even approach the greatness of the real thing. the detail is astonishing. he’s classic for a reason.

Jackson Pollock, Guardians of the Secret (1943)

James Rosenquist, Leaky Ride for Dr. Leakey (1983)

Jeff Koons, Michael Jackson and Bubbles (1988)

Larry Sultan, My Mother Posing for Me (1984)

Henry Wessel, Southern California (1985)

well then. apparently good art came out of the 80s after all. another amazing piece: some artist harvested Flickr for millions of pictures of sunsets, cropped the sun out in its own little rectangle, and pasted them all together in an epic collage. the wall at the museum only fit a thousand suns or so, but i would love to see the entire work all together.

immediately following modern art, the fantastic five meandered across a crosswalk, past a wedding, up some stairs, and through a mini-garden to drink some modern tea. it was all terribly good, but anytime i drink tea, i really just find myself fantasizing of Turkey.

tea was followed by a brief jaunt to Market in search of a bakery, in search of cheesecake, after which we drove up to the Hydeout to make Alicia make us drinks. nothing like sitting on the second-floor of a bar on Nob Hill, drinking mojitos, and beating my friends’ asses at Sorry! oh, and Thai food got involved somehow too. life: so so good.

the night was spent in expectation of seeing Young Prisms play at the hemlock tavern. the two bands that i saw open for them, Weekend and Grave Babies, were interesting. i kept hearing them as Joy Division + Spacemen 3 (GB was more on the S3 side and W was [sometimes] more on the JD side). i definitely enjoyed myself though. you can never go wrong with live music. Young Prisms seem a lot tighter than the last time i saw them and a lot more willing to sing audibly. interesting.

i’ve been listening to a shitload of Led Zeppelin lately. i think this tends to happen whenever i spend massive amounts of time with either Allison or Shannon. it’s never a mistake. Jimmy’s sideways wanking, Bonham’s epic whale stomping, Plant’s divine moans, and Jones’ whatever, all amazing. How the West Was Won and Houses of the Holy have definitely been getting special treatment. LCD Soundsystem has been getting a lot of love too. they are playing live in SF and LA soon, but i never got tickets because i don’t know where i am, where i’m going to be. but now all the shows are sold out. oh well, there’s still a chance.

as i mentioned earlier, my mix cd is complete. it doesn’t have an official name, but the playlist from where i burned it was called ‘the imp bottle,’ named after this great Stevenson short story i read last week. there are 15 copies of the mix corresponding to its fifteen songs (electronic rock, blues rock, soul, latin, garage rock, r&b, reggae, concerto, classic rock, alternative rock, indie pop, psychedelic rock, folk rock, electronica, and pop) and it runs for 1:00:02.

  1. ???
  2. Tori
  3. ???
  4. Mark
  5. Burd
  6. Micah
  7. Adam
  8. ???
  9. Meryl
  10. Emma
  11. Rich
  12. Shannon
  13. Allison
  14. Rachel
  15. Chris

i can’t wait for you to hear it! Continue reading

Posted in dear diary | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

a Robert Louis Stevenson vocabulary lesson [archive]

troglodyte (n.)

1. a prehistoric cave dweller.
2. a person of degraded, primitive, or brutal character.
3. a person living in seclusion.
4. a person unacquainted with affairs of the world.
5. an animal living underground.

God bless me, the man seems hardly human! Something troglodytic, shall we say?


greatcoat (n.) Chiefly British.

a heavy overcoat.

Mr. Utterson’s only answer was to rise and get his hat and greatcoat.


baize (n.)

1. a soft, usually green, woolen or cotton fabric resembling felt, used chiefly for the tops of billiard tables.
2. an article of this fabric or of a fabric resembling it.

…while he himself, setting down the candle and making a great and obvious call on his resolution, mounted the steps and knocked with a somewhat uncertain hand on the red baize of the cabinet door.


sedulous (adj.)

1. diligent in application or attention; persevering; assiduous.
2. persistently or carefully maintained: sedulous flattery.

He now begs them to search with the most sedulous care, and should any of the same quality be left, to forward it to him at once.


farrago (n.)

a confused mixture; hodgepodge; medley: a farrago of doubts, fears, hopes, and wishes.

The less I understood of this farrago, the less I was in a position to judge of its importance…


chary (adj.)

1. cautious or careful; wary: He was chary of investing in oil wells.
2. shy; timid.
3. fastidious; choosy: She is excessively chary about her friends.
4. sparing (often fol. by of): chary of his praise.

…and having already meddled with the devil, he was the more chary of meeting with the dead.


reprobate (n.)

1. a depraved, unprincipled, or wicked person: a drunken reprobate.
2. a person rejected by god and beyond hope of salvation.

“A worthy old man he seemed,” Keawe said. “But no one can judge by appearances. For why did the old reprobate require the bottle?”


calaboose (n.) Slang.

jail; prison; lockup.

Accordingly, when they were back in town, Keawe bade the boatswain wait for him at the corner, by the old calaboose, and went forward up the avenue alone to the door of his house.


curio (n.)

any unusual article, object of art, etc., valued as a curiosity.

I have no curios to dispose of…


horologist (n.)

1. an expert in horology.
2. a person who makes clocks or watches.

…and now, and by his act, that piece of life had been arrested, as the horologist, with interjected finger, arrests the beating of the clock.


scission (n.)

1. a cutting, dividing, or splitting; division; separation.
2. Chemistry. “cleavage.”

He feared tenfold more, with a slavish, superstitious terror, some scission in the continuity of man’s experience, some willful illegality of nature.


pier glass (n.)

a tall mirror, often full-length, intended to be set between windows.

several great pier-glasses, in which he beheld himself at various angles, like an actor on a stage


Sheraton (adj.)

of the style of furniture designed by Thomas Sheraton, 1751-1806, English cabinetmaker and furniture designer.

…a fine Sheraton sideboard, a cabinet of marquetry, and a great old bed, with tapestry hangings.


marquetry (n.)

inlaid work of variously colored woods or other materials, esp. in furniture.

…a fine Sheraton sideboard, a cabinet of marquetry, and a great old bed, with tapestry hangings.


chancel (n.)

the space about the altar of a church, usually enclosed, for the clergy and other officials.

…and then, at another cadence of the hymn, back again to the church and the somnolence of summer Sundays, and the high genteel voice of the parson (which he smiled a little to recall) and the painted Jacobean tombs, and the dim lettering of the Ten Commandments in the chancel.


camlet (n.)

1. a durable, waterproof cloth, esp. for outerwear.
2. apparel made of this material.
3. a rich fabric of medieval Asia believed to have been made of camel’s hair or angora wool.

His blue camlet cloak was a local antiquity, like the church spire.


crapulous (adj.)

1. given to or characterized by gross excess in drinking or eating.
2. suffering from or due to such excess.

His place in the parlour at the George, his absence from church, his old, crapulous, disreputable vices, were all things of course in Debenham.


sot (n.)

a drunkard.

and it was a surprising contrast to see our parlour sot–bald, dirty, pimpled, and robed in his old camlet cloak–confront him at the bottom of the stairs.

extramural (adj.)

1. involving representatives of more than one school: extramural athletics.
2. outside the walls or boundaries, as of a city or town or a university: extramural teaching; an extramural church. Compare “intramural.”

There was, at that period, a certain extramural teacher of anatomy, who I shall here designate by the letter K.


bon vivant (n.)

a person who lives luxuriously and enjoys good food and drink.

Mr. K– was a bon vivant as well as an accomplished teacher…


wynd (n.) Chiefly Scot.

a narrow street or alley.

It was with a view to this last–at that time very delicate–affair that he was lodged by Mr. K– in the same wynd, and at last in the same building, with the dissecting-rooms.


indemnify (v.)

1. to compensate for damage or loss sustained, expense incurred, etc.
2. to guard or secure against anticipated loss; give security against (future damage or liability).

For his day of work he indemnified himself by nights of roaring, blackguardly enjoyment…


blackguard (n.)

a low, contemptible person; scoundrel

For his day of work he indemnified himself by nights of roaring, blackguardly enjoyment…


quid pro quo (n.)

1. (italics) Latin. one thing in return for another.
2. something that is given or taken in return for something else; substitute.

“They bring the body, and we pay the price,” he used to say, dwelling on the alliteration–“quid pro quo.”


bashaw (n.)

1. pasha
2. a person who is important, imperious, or self-important.

issued orders like the Great Bashaw.


abeyance (n.)

1. temporary inactivity, cessation, or suspension: Let’s hold that problem in abeyance for a while.
2. Law. a state or condition of real property in which title is not as yet vested in a known titleholder: an estate in abeyance.

Fettes, with various liquors singing in his head, returned home with devious footsteps and a mind entirely in abeyance.


cras tibi (?)


It was a cras tibi which re-echoed in his soul, that two whom he had known should have come to lie upon these icy tables.


lucre (n.)

monetary reward or gain; money.

“And now,” said Macfarlane, “it’s only fair that you should pocket the lucre…”


body snatcher (n.)

1. a person who steals corpses; graverobber.
2. Slang. an agency that recruits executives working for one company to fill top management positions in another.

To rustic neighbourhoods where love is more than commonly tenacious, and where some bonds of blood or fellowship unite the entire society of a parish, the body-snatcher, far from being repelled by natural respect, was attracted by the ease and safety of the task.


mattock (n.)

an instrument for loosening the soil in digging, shaped like a pickax, but having one end broad instead of pointed.

To bodies that had been laid in earth, in joyful expectation of a far different awakening, there came that hasty, lamp-lit, terror-haunted resurrection of the spade and mattock.


cerement (n.)

1. a cerecloth used for wrapping the dead.
2. any graveclothes.

The coffin was forced, the cerements torn, and the melancholy relics, clad in sack-cloth, after being rattled for hours on moonless by-ways, were at length exposed to uttermost indignities before a class of gaping boys. Continue reading

Posted in oxford | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment

happy birthday [archive]

if you’re a close friend of mine, be wary. one of us is probably going to meet the end very, very soon.

why, you ask, would i say something so morbid on such a cold, foggy, rainy, afternoon? well, you see, my life is perfect. ok that might not be exactly true. i don’t have a palace in San Francisco overlooking the bay with spiral stairs down to the shore, i don’t have a harem, i’m not a grizzly bear, i’ve never been to space, and SFO was still in operation this morning BUT STILL–life is, undeniably, good. something terrible is just bound to happen eventually, right?

here are all the things i have to be happy about (you may or may not agree that all or even any of these things are worth celebrating).

i am in love.
i am reading the Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.
i am roadtripping California with an amazing girl next week.
i am turning 22 tomorrow.
i ate a bowl of ramen 15 minutes ago.
i ate a bowl of oatmeal and brown sugar an hour ago.
i ate a medium-sized bowl of Lucky Charms a few hours ago.
i ate a mini-bagel with cream cheese a few hours ago.
i ate a small bowl of fruit before passing out last night.
i ate a small bowl of Lucky Charms after coming home last night.
i ate a hella spicy pad see ew yesterday with some Singha.
i ate a deliciously collaborative Thai dinner with a few of my best friends in Claremont a week ago.
i can still get high.
i danced my ass off to $1 well drinks and house music last night in the Castro.
i drive a Porsche 924S (1987).
i found a basketball-sized disco ball and drove up 101 with it in the middle of my car; whenever the car turned, sun reflections would dance around the doors, dash, steering wheel, and the heart-eyed girl beside me.
i found a desk missing its legs (tray?) with a cushion on the bottom; using a computer in bed was never so enjoyable!
i get paid for writing about Silicon Valley.
i graduated from college a week ago.
i have family and friends flying/driving to the Bay for my graduation party this weekend.
i have very long hair (and it’s still growing!).
i live in the Bay Area.
i live in California.
i live in the United States.
i live on Earth.
i might have a chance of going to space in the future.
i plan on visiting a very important poet in Seattle very soon for some very indeterminate length of time.
i played with my two brothers, two dogs, and two parents all graduation weekend.
i played with a kitty and a puppy for a few days after my graduation.
i received two drunk dials in the past week while stoned from a fellow confirmed catholic who wanted to inform me that he had just taken a piss on a Jesus statue holding a lamp.
i returned to Dolores Park and Fort Funston yesterday, saw a hawk at one and hang gliders at the other.
i saved a seashell from the dumpster before leaving Claremont.
i won a four-way game of War a week ago.

by the way, i’m making a summer mix cd. if you would like to force yourself to hear it, make sure i have your mailing address. Continue reading

Posted in dear diary | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

see you tomorrow [archive]

Posted in dear diary | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Closer [archive]

fuck you you motherfucking piece of shit. fuck you and die. you are worthless. you are nothing. no, you are something. you are certainly something, but that something is the scum of the earth. your speech is infant vomit, your … Continue reading

Posted in dear diary | Tagged , , , | Leave a comment