VEGAS

Tomorrow evening Eric and I will be in Las Vegas to celebrate Kat and Grace's 30th birthdays. It's a much needed respite. I've had family from both sides of the divide swarm LA the past two weeks: doggiepaddling through these brackish waters has been taxing on lil' Ajo. Thankfully, the last of them have gone back East and I've got some time to get shit in order before the big weekend. I lost my credit and banking cards last week: a blessing indeed given what happened last time I was in Vegas.

LOVE
ALEX

FAMILY

Been mad crazy w/ family this week. Mothers flying in and out of LA all unexpected like, pissy, not talkin' to spouses and goin' on'n'on about hot flashes and criticizin' sons about the lil'est shite possible like not dealin' w/ them jars of kimchi that done turned into vinegar and how I haven't done cleaned up the fridge...lil'shit like that; aunts and uncles and gramps and grannies and pas driving about without much fo-warning, complainin' to me about my moms and the funny shit that went down in Vegas over the weekend: this guy done stressed. I've had to play mediator between the moms and the Chungs. In a word: in-laws. Ain't no biggie but I hates getting dragged into the parentals bickerin'n no talking-ish. But moms is gone now and the Chungs are in a car up to San Francisco so this guy has a little time off from family. NOT. I also have an aunt and two cousins in town tonight which I totally forgot about. I'm grabbing dinner with them and my crazy uncle who's an Angeleno but whom I rarely get to see b/c he's been busy erecting condos in K-town. But all's grace so tomorrow, I'm back up to Malibu.

LOVE
ALEX

Last weekend...

Eric:
Weekend was great.
Friday night: Dinner with A-Scards at Chi Dynasty. I hurt my tooth (more like the gum between teeth, did food get wedged up there? it's beyond me.) At home, I can't sleep 'cause of the pain. Extra-flossing only makes it worse. I open the medicine cabinet, and proceed to take a painkiller that had been prescribed for this past winter's bump-removal (my scalp will now be telly savalas smooth if i ever choose to pursue the monk path...) and fall right asleep. Which was comforting. Maybe it was the MSG. Maybe it was the medicine. But my dreams were strange.

Saturday morning I slept in for hours and hours and hours. (Sidenote: Reminded of how much I like the song "Silly Dreams" by Dead Milkmen. I love "Soul Rotation". Am I alone?)

Saturday: I meet J-Innes for lunch. Bay Cities makes great sandwiches. If you're ever there, spring an extra 2 bucks for fresh mozzarella on your sandwich. Take it from me, it's a brilliant move. Afterwards, we went back to casa de Innes to make music. For three hours, I try to improvise a song. Nothing good comes out. Maybe the lyrical magic can only happen in the comfort of my messy bedroom. Dunno. J was a good sport and lots of fun to hang out with. We decided to move on to trying to procure a toga for Saturday night's toga party at Neighbor Matt's.

We arrived at the 99 Cent store, where everything is 99 cents. Or less. We abandoned our search when we realized nothing we had would really make for a comfortable toga (read: vinyl tablecloths, duct-tape, deflated beach balls, etc.). J and I each had a slice of pizza at a place in Santa Monica that is supposed to be like NY Pizza, called Bravo or Bravo's. It's on main street. The crust is good. However, the cheese on my slice was overpoweringly strong. Not Grimaldi's or Patsy's (117th and 1st Patsy's) or Sal & Carmine's or Lombardi's, but really what is? New York makes great pies. Nontheless, the slice was significantly better than the few I've had in L.A. thus far.

Toga Party was everything a toga party should be. I wore a bedsheet which quickly fell apart. I changed into my NUGGETS warmup jersey and "you got served" baseball cap. Neighbor Matt threw a great party. I mean. There were togas, whistles, tequila, and food cooked on a hot grill. Does it get better?

On IM today, I wrote something funny.
Then I proceeded to write:
First:
Funniest people in the world for 1000.
Then, after a brief pause:
Ding. Who is M.C. Nuggets?

So lucky that I've never tried to accent a joke with a jeopardy-style buzz-in in real life. But maybe one day, when I'm feeling obnoxious, or just to point out that I said something funny and deserve laughter as payment for coming up with whatever clever words just spilled from my mouth.

Man it's been hard to blog. So busy these days. Oh, I'm coming to New York Labor Day weekend for a whole week. This means, I'll have a birthday party on both coasts. Sniff sniff. Do you smell that? Someone smells like a genius.

Going to see Beck in concert on Friday night. - Eric

P.S. "smells like a genius" is stolen/appropriated from sifl & olly, which i wish was a tv channel of its own.

P.P.S. The laid back Rolling Stones Mix I burnt to disc and have been enjoying muy mucho while I drive, goes like this:
Moonlight Mile
No Expectations
As Tears Go By
I Got The Blues
Let It Loose
Loving Cup
Torn & Frayed
Dead Flowers
I'm Free
I Am Waiting
Blue Turns To Grey
Coming Down Again
Wild Horses
Fool To Cry
You Got The Silver
Shine A Light

P.P.P.S. The mouth pain is gone. Guess someone else has it now. That is, if all pain and suffering is shared. If you have the pain I used to have, hope it doesn't stay on you too long.

MALIBU

Sayonara LA! HELLO MALIBU! Yeah right I wish. If only, right? Sheesh. Anyway, KVondy and I drove up the PCH to hang with my old high school buddy Asher, his girlfriend of I don't know what a decade, and his mother at their family spread right on the sandy shores of Malibu CA. They own three not too ostentatious houses right on the water: been in the family since the 40s. Asher and Rebecca were visiting from Austin which from all accounts is a great city. And from what I've seen of the new season of the Real World (at the gym of course as Eric and I still don't have TV), it's also a great place to get your ass handed to you. Getting kicked in the eye? Ouch. On the drive up, we listened to the Clap Your Hands song that has that infectious bassdrum techno-y line, some Boyz N Da Hood (pretty great ATL hiphop), Mariah Carey (that record's still a winner), and some selections off the Santa Barbara mix CD Vol. 1. Windows down. Sunroof open. The volume cranked up to earplitting. Sun shining. Wind blowing. Sunglasses. Ocean. Blue skies. Zero humidity. Etc. Bellissima.
The waves are brutal up around Malibu but if you swim out far enough, it's pretty calm and wonderful. The water was clean and warm. Lots of seaweed though. How many times better than Dockweiler State Beach? Oh, just about a million times better than Dockweiler Sate Beach. We played a little whiffleball and tossed the disc around on the lil' swatch of sand that's all their own. Pretty freaking relaxing: would've tumesced had my trunks been dry and looser. Then after a few helpings of fruit and babka from Zabars (how dope is Zabars?) we got out tennis racquets and walked next door to the O'Malleys (of the Brooklyn Dodgers) and played some tennis on the most plush private court I've ever stepped foot on. Not a care in the world. I felt like liquid. Didn't want it to end. But end it did as we had to go back to LA: I to neighbor Matt's outrageous Toga party where I played Lou Pinella for a while, and Kat to San Diego to see a friend. I hope to be back next Saturday at the very latest to enjoy, all over again, the sun, the breeze, the sand, and the ocean. Not to mention more Jewish food.

LOVE
ALEX

JAMES & R.

I recently started reading Portrait of A Lady again. I had just finished Ian McEwan's Saturday and wanted to sink teeth into something comparably elegant and looking on my rather meager bookshelf, all I could find was the James. I did a very poor job selecting which books to bring with me to LA (it's been almost a year already wow!): lots of film books I thought I'd need for school but haven't touched; some "oh look ain't Alex hip!" lit that I should've sold back to the Strand right before leaving NYC; and not enough classics. What's it about contemporary lit that doesn't invite rereading? If I remember correctly, I've only reread 2 books written in the past I don't know 20 years: Norwegian Wood and Infinite Jest. Everything else, read once and thrown on the ol' shelf at my parents'. I fucking loved Blood Meridien but never got around to rereading it. Didn't feel it though I do love it a lot. The classics on the other hand are infinitely rereadable. What's up with that? Why is Portrait more rereadable than Fortress of Solitude? They are both equally pleasurable yet I have no desire to reread Fortress. Maybe it's just taste, but there's something about new books that secretly stinks and you dear reader, if you can tell me why, then why, chocolate bars for you!
Now let's talk about R. Kelly's TP3: RELOADED. Eric and just about everyone else I've crossed paths with the past few weeks is probably sick and tired of my going on and on about the brilliance that is the R. Happy People/U Saved Me was a decent album, but not the R. I know and love. TP3 is the R. I know and love. The R. that can't resist the obvious metaphor, like crooning about a girl's SEX WEED, her STICKY ICKY, her MARY JANE. The R. that can't resist having as an I-don't-know-what in one of his songs, "I'M READY TO TOSS YOUR SALAD!...WHILE MAKING LOVE I'LL BE FEASTING..." The R. that admits he's been "KICKIN' IT WITH YOUR GIRLFRIEND" and doesn't know if he should boast about it or feel downright awful. The R. that writes, arranges, and produces every track on a record except those that are collaborations. This ain't a joke: R. Kelly is the greatest pop artist since Prince. No doubt about it. He's got a sweet voice; his r&b storytelling flow is tight; he's got a great ear for production; and best of all, his lyrics are brazenly sincere and funny and truthful. He just tells it like it is. No pretense about making "art." Whatever's on his mind, he sings. And thankfully, what's on his mind almost at all times is taking you the listener to the loose juice kingdom he calls, "Loveland." TP3 has got the dirty-dirty but it's also got pretty great Dancehall and Reggaeton tracks that are ridiculously infectious. And as most of you know, it's also got the weirdest most ambitious pop cycle in recent memory: TRAPPED IN THE CLOSET Chapters 1-5. Have you listened to this thing through a couple of times? Have you? If you haven't, buy the record! It's so freaking weird and hot and crazy and reeaaal! It's so well-written and sung that you forget how brilliant the flow is. And it's funny as shit! R. loves the funny because it's real. The CD also comes with a limited edition DVD of Chapters 1-5. It's pretty fantastic cinema. Especially Chapter 4. I could go on and on about TP3 but listen for yourself and get sated.
Then there's Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. My brother introduced them to me a while back and I got to say, they are fun fun fun. Not very interesting, but fun fun fun! Clearly not as talented as the R. but then again, who is?

LOVE
ALEX

CRACKED

Oh darn. I have a crack on my left heel. I can't walk proper. Dermatologist or Podiatrist? Whom shall I go see about my soles' horrid dryness (or is it disease?)? I'm assuming podiatrists deal with the mechanics of the feet and not the cosmetics.

Yesterday, I swam in the ocean for the first time this summer. Dockweiler State Beach. About a mile and half down the shore: 2 huge factories w/ enormous candy cane smoke stacks. About a mile and half out in the ocean: two huge tankers or cargoliners. About 500 yards above in the air: airplanes taking off from LAX. It was probably the most ghetto beach I've ever been to but the company was good and the water was surprisingly warm. And yes, I peed in the ocean. Lots. And often.

LOVE
ALEX

Clipped...

Eric writes:

In the process of cleaning my room the other in preparation of Martha's arrival, I lost my nail clippers. This isn't the first pair of nail clippers I've lost. I've never been really attached to any of the nailclippers I've owned. I buy the cheap-o brand nail clippers at the drug store and they do a pretty good job of keeping me from becoming that guy in the guiness book of world records who grosses me out (the one with the superlong nails, obviously). But today I woke up with claws on my hands. And the clippers are lost. (I have the little scissors, but I sorta hate those). In any case, better be careful with the rocklocks today. Better stick with the pounds. Face it, the traditional handshake is dead. Me, I'm all about walking up to someone in a business meeting and just as we're approaching, yell out, "High Ten!", and I hold up both palms, ready for the triumphant double-high-5... You know, maybe it's good that I don't actually go to any business meetings at this point in my life...

Thinking now that I could find the nail clippers if I had one of those wands that people use to find metal "treasure" (read: spare change) in the sand. But I buy cheap-o clippers. Are they even made of metal, or are they just covered in a thin metal-look shiny skin? I made a joke to Alex that if I ever was a billionaire, I'd like to spend my nights hiding gold coins in beaches for the treasure-seekers to find...

Friday Night, Martha and I went downtown, and met up with Alli and T., two friends of hers from NYU. The bar, Broadway Bar, was hosting a birthday party for some happy looking dude I didn't know. Lotsa pretty Hollywood people, but the usual self-loathing didn't take over and consume me. I had a beer (from a typical L.A. bar beerlist: Guiness, Heineken, Pabst Blue Ribbon, Budweiser, Bud Light, Stella Artois, some cider, and Corona. Read: No Miller High Life. No small breweries either. Kudos to places like Father's Office for having extensive groupings of beers that aren't made by mega-corporations. Let me make it clear, I don't drink a lot of beer, but when I have a beer, I like that it's made in a facility smaller than a blimp hangar). Silly dancing took place. Only song I remember is "99 Luftballoons". Met some USC recent graduates (undergraduate) who were clearly enjoying their early mid-20's. One of them started talking to me about something, but I couldn't understand one word she said. I nodded and smiled. Was it English or gibberish? I have no idea. But my nod wasn't enough. While dancing, She leaned in towards me and repeated what she had said. (Note: I was not dancing. I was waiting for Martha to return from wherever she'd disappeared to.) Perhaps a question, I thought. But again, no f'ing clue if they were even words coming out of her mouth. I repeated the nod & smile. She suddenly stopped dancing, looked angry, said something, quickly walked to the bar, grabbed a drink and went outside the smoking area. Maybe she was on drugs. Maybe it was a speech impediment. Perhaps both...

Martha and Alli wanted to move on around 1am. I of course, launched into selling mode, to convince them that rather than go back to the house (Alli was going to crash at my house with Martha), we should go to a Japanese after-hours bar I frequent. (Neighbor Matt introduced me.) T joins us, as we drive towards the place. Anyway, something happened, and JAHB's no longer serving drinks post 2-am. We head back to the house. I give Martha and Alli the keys, and then I drive T home to Brentwood. Got back home, sat on the deck with M&A, and just talked for awhile about the t-shirts...

Yesterday, I didn't do much of anything. Saw "March of the Penguins" with Alex and Kat. B+. We then had lunch at Doughboys. A+. I tried to rush Alex home so he could get to work on time, but there was traffic which slowed me down. B-. Went to the gym but felt kinda sick. C+. Went home and recorded a new M.C. Nuggets song called, "Heather, I just dumped you for your grandma." It's kinda vulgar so don't think I'm posting it here... yet. A-. I drove to Glendale and grabbed a late dinner at Baja Fresh. C+. Slept in 'til 10am. A, A-.

That's about it for the report card. About to go grab brunch. Wish me luck. - Eric

P.S. Update: clippers found. Much better.

Hello? Hello?

Eric goes: So, a post I wrote disappeared. So here's me summing it up:
Life's been busy. Weekend was great.
The temp job is going to go permanent, it looks like. This I like.
Should I even post when I'm this tired?
Probably not. Gonna go to sleep now.
A long day ahead of me.
Martha arrives tomorrow, and the plan is to wake up early to clean, so that Martha doesn't see my room drowning in the messy chaos it currently occupies?/creates?; Looking forward to hanging with Martha and getting Operation T-Shirt underway...
Sleepy, Eric

NYC WOW

My week long visit back East was tremendous. I didn't have enough time to see everyone---apologies---but then again, I had relatives visiting from the deepest boonies of S. Korea and so demanded attention. The weather wasn't unbearable but it was sticky: LA's spoiled me some. Went back to some of my favorite restaurants and tried some new ones.
BALTHAZAR: oh shit this place is still #1 in my book. Sure, it's a bit of a tourist trap, but whatever. I love the noisiness and the nicely worn in interior so much that I don't mind all the dirty hoes and greaseballs from Topeka so much. My brother and I split a dozen well chilled oysters and an evenly salted cote de boeuf for two. They do such nice work there and at a reasonable cost.
WD-50: tasting menu w/ wine pairing. Overpriced! Interesting preparation and ingredients but not necessarily delicious. Wanted a hot dog afterwards. Had an egg poached for EXACTLY 58 minutes at 337.15K, bathed in parmesan broth; beef tongue w/ fried mayo (some weird shit you'd think but it was pretty much agedashi tofu but with mayo); foie gras terrine with a bloody beet syrup center (like cutting into a huge piece of bubbalicious) atop pea "soil;" frozen milk (not icecream mind you) flecked with Kelloggs Frosted Flakes; seared hamachi over smoked banana; snatch foamed with passionfruit shampoo (that one's a joke har har)...the emphasis on texture was pretty remarkable and the care that went into the preparation unbelievable but in the end, it's like hanging out with kids w/ phDs, interesting for a little while but then my goodness get me the hell up out of the room and take me where them community college kids are at! Game over!
GRAMERCY TAVERN: Entree: BACON. The fattiest morsels of slab pork belly I've ever sunk my teeth into. Oh, I'd say 1 part meat 99 parts fat. Absolutely unhealthy but so is not being nice to people. A-1 delicious and unsurprisingly the cheapest thing there.
LOMBARDI'S: ARoss is so fucking wrong about where the best pizza in NYC is. He champions Grimaldi's, I say Lombardi's. They did some major renovations but the pizza's still the best.
PASTIS: 2AM after a birthday party at PM. What does one get at that hour? Why a steak sandwich of course!
PRAVDA: White russian profiteroles and a dirty martini. Not a great combination. Blech.
PEARL OYSTER BAR: more oysters and the lobster roll of course. Shit was tasty as usual but it could've used less mayo and could've been a little cooler to the touch.

I wanted to gain about 10 pounds but of course I couldn't. I thought drinking every night would've helped in that pursuit but all that did was make me pretty freaking incredibly constipated. Yow.

Thanks to Ellen for getting my cheap ass into the MOMA for free to see the Friedlander show, which as expected, made me want to give up the whole art thing b/c how does one even attempt to create something knowing that someone like Friedlander exists? Damning.

Saw two plays as well: DOUBT and HURLYBURLY. Get your fat asses into the theater and check'em out!

LOVE
ALEX