:: Out of Spite, Out of Mind ::

:: Saturday, September 21, 2002 ::

Early Thanksgiving:

Thanks to my Parents for putting up with me.
Thanks to my biggest fan, Bachan. I will be on TV soon.
Jin- congratulations! You are the man!
Thanks to Bryan Washington for restoring my crumbling faith
Thanks to Calvin for hanging out and the help.
Thanks to Ben and Stacy for the drinks!
Aya and Naomi for keeping it real... real crazaaaay.
Makiko, Ahmet, Irving for reading!
Thanks to Ben and Aya for commenting!
and thank you, David Blaine, your magic is real!

The list goes on, but I'm gonna stop it at that.

Three weels ago my friend Calvin opened up his own little business in San Mateo. His cousin Jack owns a historical building and rents it out commercially. In the courtyard adjacent to this building, Calvin built a little shack that he sells delicious Teriyaki Chicken/pork/Beef/ out of. I Hate to call it a shack because it looks really nice and would hate to denigrate it. In fact, we were joking around and called it the "love shack"... I suggested the line:

"Hey baby, wanna see the love shack? Where I marinate...
the...
....meat?" (cue porn music)

(Bad bad bad I know but it was funny at the time.)

Anyhow, a few months back- Calvin saw me working at the annual San Jose OBON festival where I volunteer at the Corn booth, selling - you guessed it, corn. Corn for Buddhism! (proceeds go to the Buddhist church) It is a hot seller, we always sell out of corn with a long line of dissapointed corn hungry people. Seeing the success of this, Calvin suggested that I set up my own mini corn booth at lunchtime and sell - you guessed it again- CORN. For a couple of days I got really excited about this ...
How cool would that be, back in the trenches... working side by side w/Calvin again (he we a sushi chef at Higashi West). Allies, brothers in arms... fighting the common enemy- hunger and Kentucky Fried Chicken (across the street competition)

If One day, one of our sales was down, I'd dress up like a big chicken or sparerib and parade up and down east 3rd street and advertise. On slow corn days, perhaps Calvin would return the favor- even the unspeakable... like

Dress up as a big corn cob- his blond dyed hair portruding out of the top of the husk...silken, beckoning the ladies of San Mateo... to the love shack... for a husking.

Shave his head (again) and pose as a Buddhist Monk, selling corn... for enlightenment...for Karma... Corn...the everlasting- all else is illusion. You eat bread, it turns to shit. You eat tacos, pizza, salad...shit again! Ah, but corn- you eat it, and like the Dalai Lama it is reincarnated...smiling at you from the shit. Let this be a lesson to you- when all is shit, be still. Be Corn.

All this was running through my head till I excitedly told my mom.

Mom: "Baka!" (fool in Japanese) "Corn season is over! It's only good in the Summer, Helllooooo, summer's over!"

My world went black- I heard Neil Finn sing "Don't Dream, it's Over" looped in my head.

I was convinced that I 'd be the CORN MOGUL of San Mateo... as my empire grew, I'd hire cute- girl next door types to wear little caps and dresses... like the Hot Dog on a Stick uniform...but with more colors. Eventually, I'd build amusement parks all over the world- Huskee Land I'd call it. The possibilities! I'd even create an evil character/ parody of our across the street competition- Kernel Cornhole Sanderz. An obese, greasy, greedy white bearded man- with the power to double one's body fat and cholesterol on sight.

Thankls for the reality check, mom. I'm lucky I have people to watch out for me before I get too carried away. I'd be so much happier if I never talked to anyone though. I guess what I'm saying is that I'd be happier without this thing called reality.

Back to the drawing board... help anyone?

:: Ol Man Factory 9/21/2002 12:05:00 AM [+] ::
...

Random Thought: The set of "The Price Is Right" is like a 70's preservation museum... What an ugly combination of colors on that set. Maybe they're trying to keep Bob Barker alive by tricking him into thinking it's the 70's or late 60's. He seems to have a long shelf life, maybe he has a secret deal w/ Hostess and sleeps in a plastic wrapper at night...like a Twinkie or Ding Dong. He is pumped full of preservatives. If you decapitated him, he would have a creamy filling.

Wow, I'm such an asshole, I can't believe I just beheaded Bob Barker in my mind and didn't feel anything. What kind of world is this where antique game show hosts are transformed into humanoid snackcakes and the subject of a bored man's autopsy? Am I that de-sensitized (to dismembering snackcakes?) No, because I am feeling bad about it now by writing this.

But maybe he deserves it. (boy that sympathy didn't last long). I mean look at all those pretty ladies he works with. You KNOW he's tryin' to run his muffin hands all over on them backstage. Bob tryin' to hook it up in the Golden Years. Hittin' that shit, you dirty birdy you. Tryin to show the ladies his "chocodile" and "snowballs". (snowballs are those little dough balls covered in coconut flakes right? I hope I'm not making this shit up). Wasn't he accused of sexually har-ass-ing one of the Price is Right girls a few years ago? He probably got off the hook (heh heh, Bob Barker on a hook) and is now acting like nothing happened. What a bastard. What a delicious golden fluffy spongecake bastard with a creamy filling, in fact it looks like some of that filling is leaking out of his head... oh...whoops... that is his white hair. His ancient white hair...dude you are a million years old! Stop hitting on those women already!

:: Ol Man Factory 9/17/2002 10:25:00 AM [+] ::
...

I emailed a guitar player I respect named David for some advice. He sent me this kind and thoughtful reply:


"I know that you play really well so just keep practicing and playing YOUR

music. What I mean by your music is, that music which will express the

unique player you are.



Easy right? I know you've heard stuff like this before but the more

individual you can be, the more people will seek your sound out. If you are

sincere about your playing and not doing it for your ego or the money, then

great things will come to you. Being honest and objective about your playing

will be a good place to start. I FIND THIS TO BE ONE OF THE GREAT

CHALLENGES. My ego says I should be playing this or playing with those

people but what is the sound and feel of what I am playing. Is it relaxed?

Is the stuff I am doing helping the music come out or is what I am doing an

exercise?"

I guess my problem is that I don't know what "my" music is. I just kind of dabble in a million different things, and then throw them in the blender... sometimes I end up with some interesting things and other times a grey unappetizing mush. So in other words, I'm like the renegade guy at Jamba Juice deviating from the menu. I'm pretty sure this is the right way for me, and a lot of people I've talked to seem to do the same. I'm not quite sure how John Coltrane would feel about being thrown in a blender with Elvis Costello and some crazy Japanese guitarist... a most unholy smoothie.

I've made quite a few real unholy smoothies in my day . When I was working as a bartender in Cupertino, I was left to my own devices one night. It was extremely slow and I was drinking with some customers. I decided to make a smoothie...you know basic fruity stuff... I was drinking on the job. Then I decided to throw in some vodka. Then some gin. Then some other stuff... it was a grey barfomity mush with black specks in it in the end. I think it was moving, breathing- thought that could've been the effects of the tequila on me. I served it to some customers. I can't remember their reaction, but I do remember laughing... yes lots of laughter. It was a most unholy union of fruit and alcohol.

Is this what I'm doing with my music? Giving people tummy aches? Also, the ego issue is always a problem... in the sense of me wanting to be playing at my full ability, but oftentimes that is not necessarily musical. Who wants to hear me rip through chord changes and scales and arpeggios (besides other guitar players). It's really fun, like cruising through a maze at top speed, but I'm sure it's more fun for me than the listener. I don't want to be playing exercises like David said, at least not in a performance situation... how have I strayed so far from this path? You'd think that the simplest thing- staying on a path, would be the easiest... boy was I wrong.

:: Ol Man Factory 9/16/2002 10:23:00 AM [+] ::
...

pawn
n.
1. A chess piece of lowest value that may move forward one square at a time or two squares in the first move, capture other pieces only on a one-space diagonal forward move, and be promoted to any piece other than a king upon reaching the eighth rank.
2. A person serving as security; a hostage.
2a. A person or an entity used to further the purposes of another: an underdeveloped nation that was a pawn in international politics.
3. Goh. example: Goh was used as a pawn to capture the knight. Then the bishop came out of nowhere and bitchslapped him off the board. That sneaky pussy the bishop he thought.. Bitch-up. Anyways... off the board, he remained motionless and silent and wondered when the next game would begin. He had no game. Hours turned to days to weeks to years... He slowly collected dust, all the while foolishly looking forward to the next game. It was never to be, for one day a hungry toddler opened the chess box and swallowed him. One angry parent and a Heimlich manuever later, he found himself in the trash. At the dump, a seagull swooped down and choked on him. Somebody threw an alka seltzer at the choking gull. The gull ate it and exploded. Fuck you stupid seagull he thought. The End.

Wow, I must have a jacked up dictionary.
I am always curious of other people's definitions of words, or the way they act according to these definitions.
I believe it is the source of a lot of woe- communication problems esp. when someone doesn't think about the words he's saying.

It's just his/her nervous ego. Like the little plastic toy pipe you had as a kid, the one w/the white plastic ball you have to keep afloat with your breath, at all costs. Then the words become a trap because he doesn't want to look bad, but it's too late. He's talked himself into a corner, even though it's total bullshit. The next level is when he starts to believe the bullshit he's just dumped and it's rationalized into some twisted truth.

Some words that I find are constantly misused:
honesty, common courtesy, truth, open, humility, reliabile, trustworthy, independant, solid.

I dunno, I just find that people and situations are always re-defining these words for me with their actions/inactions.
I am a fool for thinking that truth is something you can nail down... something stable. Ha ha ha guffaw the cynics in the balcony.

Then of course there are words like assgoblin and heartless biyatch that are constantly being re-defined. Ah the joy of words! Wicked Pissah!

Running out of steam...
Before I go:
A pledge to Makiko Miura: I will write a more positive entry next time, sorry to drag you down.

:: Ol Man Factory 9/15/2002 10:40:00 AM [+] ::
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