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My Old Room

First off, all the beds in California are mushy. I don’t understand why people in California can’t get into a stiff bed. I was sick almost the whole time I was there for Christmas. It was the worst flight I’ve ever had and then I had traditional Thai food in Thai Town, murderously spicy. The payaya salad had as many green chiles as papaya plus tiny crab legs my brother’s wife told me were “for flavor” after I ate one. I ordered green curry with tofu. On the East Coast, this comes with an assortment of vegetables. In Thai Town, I got cubes of tofu sitting in a green sea. So I had the runs the whole time.

Normally when I go back to my parents’ place, I am in my old sisters’ room which is very clean and has its own bathroom. This time, because of all everyone else coming back, I was given my first childhood bedroom. This room has been appropriated by my father for camera equipment, lighting equipment, slide and photo storage.

There is still a box of old marbles I used to play with here. It’s probably worth about $20 according to similar lots on eBay.

The room is very dusty and the bed smells like dust. One night I had feverish nightmares which resembled nightmares I had as a kid in the same room. People post about childhood showers but nothing really prepares you for reliving childhood nightmares except Guy Maddin films.

I was somehow healthy enough the second day to go to Disneyland with Cisco and family. The best shot I got was my niece getting on the first ride at 9 am.

Disneyland employs “imagineers.” The imagineer’s job is to manufacture the best time of your life. (According to a source, Captain Jack Sparrow was yanked from the fold because women would flash their tits at him.) They also employ China and half of Orange County. It’s like a floating mesa of ready-made culture to stick your ostrich head in. If there was a DisneyPlanet in China, the whole thing would collapse. Be careful out there.

Backyard Memories

I’m processing my two trips to California in two months but in the meantime, here are some photos of the family backyard with some memories and other comments.

I realize I was privileged having such a large backyard growing up. It was on a heavily sculptured and landscaped hill. No grand football games, basketball court, or swimming pool. As our two story house’s two floors are circular, the landscape features two circular paths with staircases connecting the levels.

Needless to say, the circular structures in both the house and backyard lend themselves to endless games of tag and hide-and-go-seek. No dead ends. Also, we were very lucky in that the backyard has a gate that leads to a city park. This is where most of the elbows-in-the-face basketball games, ping pong, grand football games, tennis lessons, frisbee tossing, and general neighborhood squabbling took place. I could tell some stories about each of those. Neighborhood kids from across the street often used our backyard as a shortcut to the park. This was occasionally tolerated by my parents but often not, and they would padlock the gate. Different circumstances — losing the lock, losing the key, a combination becoming public — would often thwart their efforts. In our adolescences, this is where we would surreptitiously drink our Mickey Big Mouths and get stoned. Again, fodder for more stories…

The middle level of the backyard has two platforms populated with outdoor furniture, some appropriated from my grandparents’ houses. Some of these tin cans must be over 50 years old. You can still sit in them after a good rag cleaning. These concrete and tile platforms form the heart of our summer backyard parties being roomy enough for a couple picnic tables, a barbecue, and kegs and drink service.

My mother would occasionally make marmelade with the sour oranges that the tree on the left produced. Because of the growth of two large pine trees planted in the late 70s by my siblings (after a volunteer tree planting after a large fire burned down a nearby hillside), the orange tree isn’t get as much light as it should and is producing less fruit. There are lemon trees and bushes, a grapefruit tree, and an almost dead peach tree not getting enough sunlight anymore but my parents seem to be enjoying the shade the taller pine trees are throwing on the house for the time being. Mom has yet to retire and says she has lots of plans for the house when that happens. Oh, goody!

To the left in the photo below, you can sort of see where the built-in barbecue is. (The grill chef, usually Dad, stands on another platform below.) Over the barbecue is a contraption that lets you raise and lower the grill with a crank. When Mom retires, I really hope fixing this is part of the agenda. It was on this platform where I remember sipping my first PBR and getting my first beer buzz. As you can see there are geranium plants, jade, ivy and olive trees that aren’t getting enough sunlight anymore. The soil also probably needs some fertilizer at this point. Besides mowing the front and small back lawns (up top by the house, not pictured here), the olive trees were the scourge of our backyard chores growing up. They were forever shedding leaves and olives and needing stump shoots getting pruned. Olive trees are quite the sturdy beast.

And there you have the homestead backyard. I fondly remember it and pay tribute.

Update: Couple more photos…

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays

To my friends and family who I didn’t send a card to (all of you), this is it! The card. New York was blessed with an early snow and I went out and got some snowy night shots from around the neighborhood. You know I love the trees with the white stuff on top (lit by streetlight). Here’s wishing for peace on earth, health, wealth, family harmony, and gainful employment in my case.

It’s a bike


from a while ago. You may ask why I post these things. More than the picture would be compicated.

Captain Ahab’s Crew Convenes

Deep Thought

Six months ago, a Ponzi scheme didn’t seem much different from a Heimlich maneuver.

Battle in Heaven

Battle in Heaven was the first film that made me examine the Rotten Tomatoes community. Watching it, I was astonished (!) that this film ever got made because:

  • Reygadas had to get “20″ permits to shoot with the military unfurling the Mexican flag
  • He probably had to get another 10 to shoot at the Cathedral
  • He had to find very fat people who were comfortable having “sex” on camera
  • He had to find a hot girl who would have sex with a fat man on camera for “art’s sake.”

The film delivered all this with a classy Antonioni confidence of very thought-out long shots, great urban and rural scenery, and a genuinely focused character development.

After looking at the Rotten Tomatoes “critics,” all I can say it is mostly made up of the same sort of idiots who make up the wingnut blogosphere — if it’s not Ronald Reagan, it totally sucks.

Let’s Hear It For Tubes

Plumbing, conduits, liaisons, efficient.

When You’re Upside Down

…prove it by posting photos.

Bushwick! It’s Like Vegas Somehow!

RIP Reggie 1993-2008

A good cat, a good friend. Big. Bad. Boy.

Euthanasia

Putting a pet down is a thang.