Refreshing

It's 3:00 am and I came on here briefly to say I had one of the best evenings I've had in a long time. I met up with Michelle, the copyeditor and designer of my book - not to mention a good friend - and her husand Ralph, in Rockridge, where we then went to this tiki bar in Alameda run by Ralph's best friend from college. Not only was the place fun again, and not only did I finally talk with the lead singer of Jewdriver, but I met four different girls, all of whom were amazingly adorable - and cool - and all of whom I would date in a second, without even thinking twice. Literally I posted up at the bar and talked for hours, to the point where I didn't even notice I missed the deadline to catch the BART back to the city. Nonetheless I'm glowing right now, not because I worked a little magic, or that I think I'm cool, but just because it's so refreshing to talk to girls who are so lovely, and while the chances of even one of them turning into something significant are next to non-existant, just the opportunity to feel inspired, and have it based on women who are so sharp and cool and cute all in the same breath, and to have all of them amused, and intrigued, by me, makes all the other nonsense worthwhile. When they dropped me off at the Embarcadero a few minutes ago, I had the most refreshing walk home, and as all the drunken idiots in North Beach walked by me I was a ghost, smiling and alive and invisible with each step. Tomorrow I'll be hurting, and I'll probably spend all day in bed watching DVD's, but tonight, right now in fact, I feel like I hear the silence of the world, and it sounds so sweet.

Holding On

I'm waiting for my boss to get off the phone so we can discuss a poster I just designed. In the meantime I have a few cool things for you to check out. Here is the new Beck video, directed by Michel Gondry, who seems to do no wrong, at least in your average hipster's mind. Also, here is a cool photography site, done by Juliana Beasley. (If you have a chance check out her book, Lapdancer, for some really provocative imagery.) Finally, here is the site for The Fountain, the new Darren Aronofsky film. In my opinion, next to Wes Anderson, there's not a better director working today (well, I guess PT Anderson is in that group too), although I'm not entirely sold on The Fountain as of yet. Visually it looks amazing, but the Matrix meets Lord of the Rings vibe doesn't really do it for me. Hopefully, I'm wrong, as it would bum me out that the director of Pi and Requiem for a Dream waited six years for this.

Anyway, I have a new project in the pipeline, and once all the details are in order, I'll announce it here. It should be exciting.

Pussy Cats

I can't wait till lunch to pick up the new Walkmen album. The cool thing is I didn't even know it was in the works, so the surprise of discovering it this morning and realizing it came out yesterday is a great feeling, because I don't have to wait around for months in expectation. If you're not aware of John Lennon's Lost Weekend, here are a few of the details. The stories are hilarious.

I've Got Nothing

My boss has been sick the past few days, and since we share an office and work in such close proximity, it's inevitable that I'll catch it soon. For the past twenty-four hours I've been slamming Airbourne, hoping to build up my resistance, and yet, something still feels off at the moment. Unfortunately, I can't tell if I'm coming down with something or my neurosis is just in overdrive. Meanwhile, I'm bored at work. I have this ad I'm supposed to be working on, and I've designed several different PDF's to show my boss as soon as he gets in tomorrow, so it's not like I've been slacking. It's just with the gallery so quiet now, I can't help but nod off every so often; then suddenly I hear a crack in the ceiling and leap forward, worried that someone has climbed the steps and is about to catch me sleeping on the job. I guess I could just go home, since coming up with one final design seems impossible at this stage of the afternoon, and I like what I've already worked on, but in a weird way I don't want to take any sick leave until I'm really down and out. The thing is, nobody would even care if I did go home, but there's something in me that still feels like I'd be pulling a fast one, so I guess I'm just going to sit here and stare at the screen, hoping I'll have one last artistic breakthrough before the sun goes down. So between watching old videos of Ice Cube on youtube and browsing through David Carson's End of Print for new ideas, I thought I would try and write something here.

Unfortunately, with a best friend in Vegas having a difficult time at the moment (despite me telling her last night I would be coming to visit around Thanksgiving), and a housemate who hasn't left her room in six days, I'm surrounded by doom and gloom, and any attempt at mustering a funny anecdote here seems contrived.

The point of all this is, I've got nothing for you, and I'm sorry. I'll try harder next time.

To The Brink

The Yo La Tengo concert last night at The Fillmore was nothing short of an ecstatic experience, taking it to the brink of madness and restoring my faith in music to drown out all the other nonsense in our lives.

And they currently have one of the cooler album titles in a long time: "I Am Not Afraid of You and I Will Beat Your Ass."

A few samples in case you're not familiar with them:
Mr. Tough (which reminds me of Beck's Debra)
Don't Have To Be So Sad
I Heard You Looking

To top it off, The Fillmore handed out these awesome posters they made for the show, which was a nice bonus to complete the evening, and which is already on my wall in all its glory.

Oh, and if you have a chance, watch this documentary. It's got some amazing footage, and the stories are more compelling than you'd think.

Cheers.

Indifference

I don't have much to offer these days as far as news. I'm working too many hours, and learning to think once again in a visual world, which is cool I guess, although I seem to be beating myself up over the fact that the only book I've read these past six weeks is the one I wrote, which I did twice, just because it still cracks me up. I wish this meant I'd have something profound to say about design, or life, but unfortunately I'm still in the learning stages, and everything is a bit overwhelming.....................I did watch this great movie last night, Sketches of Frank Gehry. I've always wanted to be knowledgable about architecture - hell I stare at enough buildings every day, let alone waste enough film on them - but my mind doesn't think mathematically, so I feel like I only get things on an aesthetic level. Gehry's an artist, though, plain and simple, and just watching his methodologies, and the way he thinks outside the box, was quite thrilling. I know some people can't stand his work, but everything I saw in the documentary was really cool (so who cares what those hipsters think?) and it got me fired up about a few things, especially when he was building the models, and just made his decisions on an intuitive level, or simply to amuse himself, which led to this great moment where he says, "That's the stupidest thing I've ever seen" - referring to a building he had just designed - where he then raised his arms up in celebration. Not to mention the scene later on where he says he was "pussy-whipped" when explaining his decision to change his last name from Goldberg to Gehry, which was great to see an older artist still talk like that. Anyway, if you're looking for inspiration, or perspective, you might enjoy it.

Or maybe you won't.

Fuck it though, I tried.

Cold War Kids

The show Saturday night at Mezzanine was amazing. Here are a few pictures, and here is the song they played to close out the evening, Hang Me Up To Dry, which has the most intoxicating bass line.

Trust me when I say, these guys are for real.

Iron Man

The days seem to be passing by so quickly, and everything is a blur.

Sunday I convinced City Lights to carry my book, which was a huge deal for me. You see, when I first came to the Bay Area in the fall of 98, all I cared about was tapping into the rich literary scene. City Lights, of course, is the Mecca, having once been home to so many Beat happenings, and just browsing through the different sections you could feel the ghosts of Kerouac and Ginsberg and all those other crazy bohemian artists. Then when I went to grad school, a professor had his book release party there, and another instructor happened to be an old friend of Kerouac's, so with each day that passed I would tell myself, you're getting closer. Now with a legitimate book, and getting so much positive feedback, the only thing that was missing was walking into City Lights and seeing it on the shelf. Well, it happened Sunday, and for once I can honestly say, I feel proud.

Last night, Jennifer and I went to this poetry reading at the cafe around the corner. For three weeks we've been obsessing over this event after seeing the flyers for the show, mainly because we assumed it was going to be a bunch of hipsters reading really bad poetry, and we wanted to see each other's smile when the first pretentious moment came. (Yes, this is what we do during the week for fun.) The other motivation, though, was that one of the poets reading was named "Ozzy", without a last name, and we thought it would be great to see what this guy looked like, assuming it was some kind of stage persona. So, I called the cafe as soon as I got home from work, and was told the show didn't start till 9:00. When I then asked if I should wear my beret (don't worry, I don't own one) the guy hung up on me, disgusted. So anyway, we waited around all night for this thing, but when we finally got there, it was already over. (I guess it started at 7:30, and the guy I joked with had purposely lied to me, which I guess, in a way, I deserved, but still, now I want to fuck with him in some way, and the fact that I've actually pondered this scares me.) Anyway, even though we were bummed, we stuck around, eager to find one jewel in the crowd, and were amazed to discovery the poets weren't a bunch of literary snobs like we assumed, but rather a collection of elderly folks, the majority of whom had canes and these crazy wool caps to keep their heads warm. I mean, literally, there wasn't a person under 65 in the crowd. (I even managed to drop in three tasteless jokes about the 80's movie, Cocoon, before the night was through.) Anyway, Jennifer and I decided to stick around for a while, for comedy's sake, so we pretended to have just stumbled in from the cold - seeking shelter and something warm to drink - rather than appear visibly disappointed that we had missed the show, mainly because we didn't want anybody to think we came solely to laugh at their performances. I looked around, though, and couldn't tell which guy was Ozzy (for some reason I thought it would be obvious), so I had to ask the kid behind the counter, "Hey, bro, which one is Ozzy?" The kid laughed and said, "That one in the corner - the one who really looks like Ozzy." There was a pause for a second and then he continued. "He's actually quite good. I mean, he was impressive. I love his work." That's when I noticed Ozzy in the back, surrounded by a whole entourage (including a few elderly groupies), clearly the leader of the gang, not too mention the most vibrant. He really did look like Ozzy Ozbourne too, with long dark hair and cool rockstar shades, and the best part was, he even had his fingernails painted black. Of all the possibilities, and after three weeks of speculation (which included Jennifer waking up at 4:00 am yesterday with a vision of what he looked like, complete with an actual drawing that was close to the real thing, one that is now thumb-tacked on my wall for posterity), the one possibility that we had dismissed - that he actually would be the elderly doppelganger of one of heavy metal's most iconic figures - happened to be the case. So we grabbed some tea and sat in the corner and watched as they finished their wine and congratulated the hero of the night. Then after twenty minutes we came home, disappointed that we had missed the performance (just for absurdity's sake) but rather amused at our discovery, which means, of course, that another month can't pass soon enough, which is when the next reading will be.

Finally, I'm going to see Cold War Kids on Saturday night, which is going to be an amazing show. Here's one of their songs in case you're not familiar with them.