Microsuede

THE LEONARDO!

2011-09-30T11:49:00.003-06:00

Hey guys. I don't blog much anymore, but I hope someone still subscribes. I'm here to talk about my job. I work at a museum called The Leonardo in Salt Lake City. It's a Science+Technology+Art museum. It's totally boss. We open on October 8, which omg is a week away! I do video production for the Leo, so scattered throughout the museum will be some short videos I made explaining the science behind the art or the art behind the science. Doesn't that sound exciting? Anyway, read more about it here. Watch the awesome commercials that someone else made, and make sure to come by on October 8th at 11am! You will have fun! Also if you come by feel free to bring me some McNuggets too.

http://theleonardo.org/

Look, colored lights! Remember how much I love those!

mother's day eve

2011-05-08T14:06:00.002-06:00

In line behind me at the Smith's two old friends run into each other. They bump elbows like a couple of Bash Brothers and catch each other up on what they're doing and where they're living and provide updates on mutual friends. With no natural segue one says to the other "Tell me this isn't all there is. Tell me it gets better." The other replies "No, this is it."

Then a girl that looks like Snooki knocks every last Chapstick off the shelf. Tubes of balm roll everywhere!

BONUS SONG! Crash and the Boys: I'm So Sad, So Very Very Sad

2011-02-28T16:40:00.001-07:00

Sums up 2010 real nice.

Top Ten Songs of 2010 - Stars: How Much More

2011-02-28T16:39:00.000-07:00

Without commentary

Top Ten Songs of 2010 - Phantogram: Mouthful of Diamonds

2011-02-16T12:57:00.003-07:00

I like this song. The video is dumb. It doesn't know what it wants to be. And I think it's taking itself seriously when it's all quite silly. I saw this band at Kilby Court last year but couldn't actually see anything. Weird note: Kilby has this unisex bathroom and I went to use it and was behind the girl in the band. That's the third time that exact scenario has happened at Kilby Court. I am not a pervert.

Top Ten Songs of 2010 - Arcade Fire: Sprawl II

2011-01-12T00:19:00.002-07:00

I backlashed against Arcade Fire, and then I backlashed against the backlash, and then backlashed against that, and reversed it. In any event this song reminds me of a very specific moment in time from last summer where it was raining and I was at the club but also I was driving through San Pete County running away from my own ghost. So I guess it reminds me of two moments.

Top Ten Songs of 2010 - Sleigh Bells: Tell 'em

2011-01-04T23:35:00.000-07:00

I tried to see these guys live, but it sold out right before I got in. The person in front of me got the last ticket. I heard it was miserable inside but I'd rather win and be miserable than fail and be left out in the cold.

Top Ten Songs of 2010 - Gorillaz: On Melancholy Hill

2010-12-26T21:44:00.001-07:00

I like this because it has pep AND melancholia!

Top Ten Songs of 2010 - The National: Bloodbuzz Ohio

2010-12-24T16:50:00.000-07:00

Good drums.

Top Ten Songs of 2010 - Against Me!: I Was a Teenage Anarchist

2010-12-21T14:46:00.002-07:00

Great song and video for the song.

Top Ten Songs of 2010 - Future Islands: Inch of Dust

2010-12-20T13:10:00.001-07:00

Joy Division with synthesizers if the singer was a mad wizard.

Top Ten Songs of 2010 - Menomena: Dirty Cartoons

2010-12-19T15:51:00.003-07:00

You know, I have half a mind to turn this entirely into a music blog. I love writing about music. I also like listening to it and seeing it performed, in-person, by musicians.

Anyway I might as well countdown my top ten favorite songs of 2010 because an awful lot of good music came out this year and dopes like me like to make lists. Also I need to update this blog every once in a while or some squatter will move in like a hermit crab.

These are in no particular order. Here's Menomena with "Dirty Cartoons."

The first couple of times I listened to this album it didn't really click with me, but I'm glad I gave it another shot. When I make my Top Ten Albums list this will be #2. They played a show a while back but I didn't go, choosing instead to watch MacGruber and drink chocolate milk wine while playing ball with a dog.

interlude: the true story of saint ricky

2010-10-08T17:29:00.008-06:00

Taking a break from the Seattle adventure to talk about this most interesting gentleman I met at the comic book store on Friday.

Odds are you don't spend a lot of time at your local comic shop (LCS if you want to use the parlance) so it may surprise you to know that such an establishment can sometimes attract an unusual sort of fellow, a free-thinker, a march-to-the-beat-of-a-different-drummer.

I was at my favorite store on Friday, picking up my weekly funnybooks and joking around with the owner Greg. The store was empty but for us when a guy walked in and stood at attention in front of the cash register. His hair was oiled back and he sported a fuzzy mustache and a denimy shirt. I'm going to call him Saint Ricky.

"Can I help you find something?" Greg asked.

"Two things," Ricky said. "The movie theater [across the way] wanted me to give you this."

He handed over a roll of posters for the movie Salt (ask me about that movie sometime. There's a part where Angelina Jolie disguises herself as a man. It's ridiculous).

"Cool, thanks," Greg said.

Ricky took a deep breath. "Also, more importantly, I have a question..."

I thought he was going to ask for a donation or try to sell some cologne or preach some weird religion. Instead he asked Greg how much a certain comic might be worth. This kind of thing happens all the time. From his description I knew it was this one issue from the '90s, which is pretty much worthless. In the '90s comics were marketed not for their stories but as "collectibles." People bought them by the sackful thinking they were going to be investments. But of course nothing that's contrived and designed to be an investment (er, except for maybe stocks and Roth IRAs) is actually going to pay off. Comics in the '90s were overprinted and issues that were much sought after in 1991 are now worth less than the cover price. Literally less than the paper they're printed on.

Greg was diplomatic, said he'd have to see it before being able to determine it's so-called worth, but implied that Ricky shouldn't get his hopes up. These moments always feel awkward to me but you know, whatever.

"I have another question," Ricky said. "What did you guys think of the girl in the Ghost Rider movie?"

Neither Greg nor I had seen it.

"Well whoever she is, she's a stone cold fox! I have another question. What do you guys think of Lucy Liu? I think she's a stone cold fox. What about Drew Barrymore? Isn't she annoying when she talks? When she keeps her mouth shut though, she's a stone cold fox."

"You know what movie you would like?" I said. "Charlie's Angels."

"Charlie's Angels 2: Full Throttle. Lucy Liu fits into a tiny box. It's only this big. I thought Halle Berry was great as Catwoman."

When he said that about Halle Berry, Greg and I shared a startled glance as we knew that Ricky was a different kind of cat.

"Yeah. I used to own a comic-book shop. They were making pornos in there. I had security cameras, and they were screwing on the counter, screwing on the back issue bin, screwing everywhere."

"You were the owner? Where were you when this was going on?" I asked.

"I was watching at home."

Of course.

I wasn't trying to goad him on, and in fact I was trying to engage him as minimally as possible, but I didn't want to leave either. I don't remember how but Facebook was brought up.

"I have to keep my Facebook account private because I can't let anyone see who I'm friends with. Zac Effron, Vanessa Hudgens..." He listed a bunch of other names I'd never heard of. "I'm friends with all of them because I wrote the music for High School Musical, High School Musical 2, and High School Musical 3. Let me ask you something. How do you think I know all the music when I don't even own the DVDs? It's because I wrote all the songs. Disney wants you to think that Miley Cyrus wrote them but do you think she's ever picked up a guitar? My girlfriend doesn't even watch those movies. I'm a third-degree Shaolin black-belt. My girlfriend is a fourth-degree. She can kick my ass."

"Well," I said, "She's only one degree higher than you so she can only barely kick your ass right?"

"No. I never hit a woman. THAT's where I draw the line. Last night we got in a fight and she broke my toe. Hey, do you mind if I ask how you got those scars? I could show you some scars. I'm covered in needle scars. All over my body. Feel my muscles."

He held out his arm, flexing as hard as he could. I declined.

"I was born with these muscles. See my calf?" he lifted his pant leg and flexed. "I was born with these calves. I am a result of genetic experiments conducted by the government."

I asked when that happened. He said "I don't know, my memory has been wiped. But my uncle, he's a colonel at a military base in Nevada. And that's all I'm allowed to say about that."

"Is it Area 51?" I asked.

"We have to stop talking about this right now. But did you know that you could hit me with a baseball bat as hard as you could, right to the head, and it wouldn't even affect me? I wouldn't be allowed to hit you back though. I'd go straight to jail. My body is registered with the government as a lethal weapon. If I even touched you I'd go to jail for attempted murder. If I killed you, I'd go to jail for murder. Can I have this pen? Can I have any of these pens? Do you have any pens that I can have? Do YOU have a pen I could have?"

We tried to ignore him.

"I'm fluent in nine different languages. Hola, que pasa? Bonjour, je m'appelle Francais. Sprechen sie deutch? Hey, how do you drown a Puerto Rican?"

"I really don't want to know the answer to this one."

"Tape a bag of crack to the bottom of the toilet."

"Not cool man, my wife is Puerto Rican." I don't have any kind of wife but he doesn't know that. That's why you don't tell racist jokes to strangers or ever.

Then he took his shirt off. Just unbuttoned it and took it right off. He had a bunch of weird tattoos that looked like they weren't done by a professional. He pointed out a small scar near his shoulder.

"My ex-wife was Puerto Rican. She did that to me. Stabbed me right there. All I did was ask what was for dinner and she stabbed me. So I know all about Puerto Rican women, buddy."

Somehow he started talking about drums and casually mentioned "My coven just bought me a new drum kit."

Coven?

"Yeah I'm wickan," he said with a "duh" kind of attitude. After an hour of just the three of us in the store a nice girl walked in, of Asian-American persuasion. She was carrying a brown paper bag having walked over from the nearby liquor store.

"What are you?" he said to her.

"Huh?"

"What are you?"

"What do you mean?"

"What. country. are. you. from?"

"Um... America?"

"No I mean where are you from."

"West Valley."

"No I mean your parents."

"Ogden?"

"Your heritage! What is your heritage?!"

"I guess uh.. Taiwanese."

"Oh cool. So you're buying some anime comics then?"

"I'm buying Spider-man!"

Poor girl had no idea what she walked into.

"You came from the liquor store? Let me ask you, does that liquor store carry sauvignon blanc?" he pronounced it "sauweeyah blaaaanh" like a real Frenchman. "It's a type of wine. I was just wondering if they carried it. Not because I'm gay though."

Then it was time for more jokes.

"What do Michael Jackson and Wal-Mart have in common? Boys clothes half off. What do Michael Jackson, a Catholic Priest, and Wal-Mart have in common? Boys clothes half off."

He mentioned that he was going to go see a movie. In his hometown in Arizona they don't have a movie theater, so he comes up here to see movies then goes back and tells everyone about them. I love this. That the closest movie theater to this town in Arizona is in Salt Lake City. I picture him riding in and every citizen gathering round the dusty town square while he tells tales of distant lands, where city-folk gather together and eat of popped corn and gaze upon the giant screen where the pictures move, where a handsome man named Leo has dreams within dreams within dreams.

The reason he mentioned this is because he could do the same thing for us. He could come back after his movie ended to tell us all about the film Vampires Suck. We all said we'd seen it.

I feel like I'm really only scratching the surface here. It's hard to convey how bizarre this encounter really was and surely I didn't do it justice. After he left Greg and I sat in silence, trying to comprehend what had just happened, unable to put the words together. Probably you had to be there. You had to see his icy stare. You had to see the karate moves he was busting out all over the store, knocking things over and fumbling with found objects. Still. It was a day to remember.

If it sounds like I'm making fun of this guy... well I am. I hope I don't sound mean though. Obviously the fellow is mentally ill in some way. I don't feel bad though because really, he's way happier with his life than I am with mine.

Forked: Part 2 - Dazzled (by Twilight)

2010-09-28T01:25:00.008-06:00

It's time we address the elephant in the room. Stephanie Meyer. She is the elephant in any room, at any time. Now I'm not saying she's particularly elephantine, but just that she looms over us all, whether we realize it or not. She is part of the fabric of existence. She's out there, right now, and there's nothing we can do about it.

I have a strange relationship with the Twilight books. I first became aware of them on August 4th, 2007. I know this because I wrote a blog about it here. Well, I wrote a blog about going to a bookstore to buy a copy of Trainspotting (in which their personal brand of heroin is actually heroin). I remember walking into that bookstore and seeing a huge display for the Twilight books, and thinking "what the crap is this?" I gathered that they were written by a local author of some sort and that the books were a publishing sensation. (research tells me that this happened only days before the release of the third book, hence the display).

I used to have co-workers, back when I had a job. Middle-aged ladies mostly. I remember overhearing them talk about Twilight and debating the casting choices for the movie. It was still barely on my radar. Then someone, probably Elin, had the bright idea to get a group of funsters together to go see the movie. So on Tuesday, November 25, 2008 I saw it and it was the most fun I've ever had in a movie theater (in the top three anyway, along with Wanted and Godzilla).

That movie is ridiculous. If you haven't seen it, you really need to, with a group of your finest smartasses. It was 2008, Lolcats were all the rage, so I whipped this up, and it got some polite chuckles from my friends and a few blog strangers who happened upon it.

Twilight.

A year later the next movie came out, so I did a Lolcat re-enactment for the sequel too.

New Moon.

It was up for about a week, and then it started to grow in popularity. One day my blog got over 300 hits! Then the next day it got 6,000. Then 13,000. Then over 125,000 in one day. It was all over Facebook and Twitter and comedy blogs and Twilight message boards. Currently it stands at about 800,000 unique views, and comments still come in and I still get letters from strangers telling me how funny it was. Wild! I went viral.

Here's the third movie if you need it.

Eclipse.

There's a point to all of this. The Twilight books take place in a real-life town called Forks, about a two hour drive from the Seattle area. Stephanie Meyer set the books there because a google search revealed it to be the rainiest city in the country. I like driving around, I like small towns, and I like doing ridiculous things, so a day trip to Forks seems like the best idea anyone has ever had (again, I think it was Elin's idea).

The drive up there is pretty.

Cars were lined up behind us to get a picture of the sign.

Bear in mind, none of the movies are even filmed here. But upon entering the town we discovered that the economy is almost completely Twilight based. There are four stores on one corner that all deal exclusively in Twilight merchandise, and they were all packed.

Of course everyone knows that the best of these stores is Dazzled by Twilight.

The inside has astroturf on the ground and is made up to look like the woods!

And Taylor Lautner just hangs out there all the time!

I bought this.

A comic-book biography of Stephanie Meyer. You can listen to my review of it here! Go to the 14:05 mark. "I'm still sore from all the brooding..." ha!

We walked around a bit. Here's Forks High School WHERE BELLA AND EDWARD TOTALLY WENT!

I don't know if Bella ever went bowling but this was a neat bowling alley and I would have loved to rolled a few lines there.

Outside of town is the Indian Reservation which sports a sign reading "No Vampires Beyond This Point" and a vacation rental property done up to look like Jacob's house.

First Beach at La Push. Great beach.

Such a striking image, that ocean knob there.

I love throwing rocks into bodies of water, and Nathaniel got in on the action too.

The beach is covered in Twilight graffito.

I marveled at all the Twilight messages written into the sand, but then discovered Elin was behind them all.

There was an enormous piece of driftwood on the beach.

So naturally Amy just up and climbed the thing.

She disappeared and I worried that she had perished but then she just came walking up like it was no big deal.

Here's all of us, just so you get a sense of the size of that thing.

Ah, the beach.

Went to Port Angeles in search of food and stumbled upon this restaurant, which claims to be the restaurant that Bella and Edward (two fictional characters) went on their first date.

Nothing suited us in Port Angeles so we skipped. I caught some neon on the way out.

Finally landed in Sequim (pronounced "skwim"), the driest city in Washington. Went to a Mexican place where this watches you eat...

and this watches you pee...

Here's the restaurant from the outside. I think that's a burrito tower?

Yeah. Forks.

Forked: Part 1

2010-09-22T00:59:00.016-06:00

Why.

Why would I be nine miles outside of Twin Falls at midnight, standing at the edge of a truck stop with one foot on the pavement and one foot in the weeds, watching the cars pass by on the highway, gazing at the moon?

Because I was on my way to Seattle, obviously. In what has become an annual tradition, every summer I go on a road trip to Seattle.

Last year I went to Seattle to visit Nathaniel, who lived up there. He lives in Salt Lake now so me and he and a couple of nice young ladies went back to pick up his stuff or see his sister or steal t-shirts or something. Tip: any good road trip, especially a fourteen hour trip, should begin as late in the day as possible. We left at about 730pm, driving through the twilight hours, our truck like a stake through the heart of the night.

We brought a book along and took turns reading it out loud. Except for Nathaniel who was usually driving. Kept us busy for much of the drive. Though now we're three months past and we still haven't quite finished the book. That will soon be rectified I hope.

Nine miles out of Twin Falls and five outta Kimberly is a truck stop called Garden of Eden.

It's not just a name, it's a theme.

I think we had three more dead of night truck stop stops on the drive north. It's an interesting feeling, miles away from what you know at an unreasonable hour, roused from a bad sleep and feeling like your soul is on a three-second delay from the rest of your body. You inspect each aisle of the food section meticulously, as though this is your last meal and you can't miss the treasure that you've somehow overlooked. You can't even comprehend the array of oranges and yellows, reds and browns, cool-ranch flavors and 25% more peanuts. You couldn't wait to get out of the car and now you can't wait to get back in and the truck on the left has a Mexican Cowboy DH-ing his lady and the truck on the right is full of white supremacists.

Um, anyway truck stops.

I didn't sleep much and what sleep did come was poor, five seconds off and five seconds on. I had the Stars - The Five Ghosts on a loop in my ears for about three hours and now I can't even listen to it anymore because it is imprinted with the memories of this trip and I know no other memory will ever be able to eclipse that.

We finally came into town a few hours after the breaking of dawn and just in time for breakfast at the 5 Spot, whose french toast is one of the top five foods I've ever eaten. The restaurant has a rotating theme. Last time I was there it was Cannery Row, but this time the theme was Seattle, and they really nailed it.

I love that someone with artistic training and talent painted a portrait of Frasier.

I particularly enjoyed this sculpture of Ken Griffey Jr. inside of a shell of some sort. What is that, a geoduck shell?

Oh man I wish I hadn't just Googled "geoduck." Man. Ken Griffey Jr. One of the most tragic figures of our time. He could have saved us all, and instead he suffered injury after injury until his career ended one day when he didn't bother showing up for work.

We hung out around the water and the Pike Place Market and stuff. Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe, home of the zombie.

The Lusty Lady is a beloved landmark, closed forever this summer because the internet took away all its business.

Is there anything the internet can't ruin?

I like Pike Place Market, even when it's humid. It's so colorful.

I got some avocado flavored bubble tea and it was yummy. Then later I had a cheese lunch. Happytimes.

We walked up to go to the Underground tour and on the way some lady pushed Nathaniel aside and then charged headlong into a busy street. Somehow she didn't get run over, but she did bash her head directly into a light pole while walking full speed.

Oh here's Chief Seattle.

A sculpture of him anyway. Loitering in this square we had a nice chat with a homeless sportsfan santa. He was talking about the Mariners and how great they're going to be once Matt Wieters comes up. I didn't have the heart to tell him that Matt Wieters plays for Baltimore. Then he went crazy talking about snacks. See me in person sometime, I'll tell you about it.

The Underground Tour takes you through the subterranean ruins of old Seattle. I was really interested in it at first but I'll say right off the bat that it's not quite worth it. Unless you like awkward puns delivered by college student-tour guides, who try to make everyone feel guilty for not laughing at their awkward puns.

Tourists are alright though. These two are better than any of us.

I'm not making fun of them, I really admire them.

Underground.
Not underground?

We kept going from Underground to Not and I was getting so confused as to what was what. Elin had to keep explaining it too me. As a general rule of thumb, darkness: underground, trees: not. But there are exceptions!

This freaky monster of a pig truck reminded us that it was dinner time.

We went to uh, a Senegalese? restaurant. Wow, it was good. I'd recommend it if I knew the name or where it was.

In this picture it may look like Nathaniel is wincing and crying, but really this is an advanced Krav Maga technique.

Ferry to Bremerton, where we would be staying and hopefully getting some good sleep for the first time in thirty-six hours.

Nathaniel and Amy tried to have a private chat on the stern while I stood a few feet away and took pictures of them.

Seattle skyline, beautiful sight from the water.

Moon over the water, still days away from being new.

So that was Day 1. What does Day 2 have in store? Well...

"We brought a book along and took turns reading it out loud."

That book?

Oh no.

where we're going we don't need-

2010-09-19T01:53:00.004-06:00

I can't sleep so I'm making a list of celebrated thoroughfares. Did I miss any?

Route 66
Broadway
The Autobahn
Champs Ellysees
Sunset Blvd
Carnaby St.
The Crooked One in San Francisco
Haight-Ashbury (disqualified since it's a corner of two streets)
Wall St.
Sesame Street
Picabo Street
The Pacific Coast Highway
Rodeo Drive
Las Vegas Blvd
Abbey Road
The E Street Band
Bourbon Street
The Appian Way
The Road to Damascus
Baker Street (saxophone part only)
The Long and Winding Road
Mike Skinner
The Trail of Tears
The Ho Chi Minh Trail
Madison Avenue
Pennsylvania Avenue
Cormac McCarthy's The Road
The Road Less Traveled
Holiday Road
8 Mile

READER ADDITIONS:

Park Avenue (love Green Acres. Could probably come up with five more just from NYC)
Mulholland Drive
The Silk Road
Oregon Trail (texted to my e-mail from a Vegas number? Who sent that? Either way, good one)
Hiiiiiighway to the Dangah Zone

Beehived: Part 2

2010-09-09T01:09:00.005-06:00

Oh no get them away from me I don't like it I don't like it I don't like it!!!

I'm talking about all those bats up there. That's too many bats. I think the girl at the zoo told me there were 150 of them? Horrible creatures. I hate any kind of creature that likes to be bunched up like that. It's too weird.

So I took that picture during a fun day at the Zoo. See how fun?

Children of all ages love the Zoo. I've written about the Zoo many times here. You should find those entries and read them. Especially if you like apes. No apes today, but maybe an elephant.

And these gossipy old ladies.

You can see the giraffe in the middle, but there are actually two giraffes in this picture. Can you find the other one?

Give up? Okay I was lying there's only one giraffe.

I like this handsome Saharan cat. He seems so non-plussed by the parade of humanity before him.

The Month of May has been covered already, so I'll jump the end, Memorial Day. I discovered this.

It's a Monastery hidden near Huntsville. It seems like it should be easy enough to find but then suddenly you get bombarded with conflicting arrows.

The monastery is called the Abbey of Our Lady of the Holy Trinity. It's nice. Very peaceful and green up there.

There's a shortage of monks. No one wants to be a monk anymore. Honestly, I can't say I blame them. I don't want to be a monk. Maybe if monk-life was all hanging out with Robin Hood and acting like a rapscallion that would be one thing, but it seems like it's just singing a dozen times a day and doing minor household repairs.

Anyway where is that church...

Here's the inside. We watched the monks do their chant. They filtered in one by one, slowly and reverently. There are seats for many a monk but I think I only counted seven of them. That made me sad.

The gift shop has some cool stuff and this guy runs it. He really likes to chat.

They sell a delicious honey there made by the monks. It's how they stay in business. It's some fine honey. Mighty fine. Also if you buy any 25-cent Saint cards he's going to ask you why you chose them. The correct answer is that they chose you. Just a little tip for ya.

Oh hey a baby!

My dear friends Lee and Lisa got one for themselves. I like Olive and she seems to like baseball and might like AC/DC (test results inconclusive). However here she is at two days old, seeming a little suspicious of me.

Her suspicion continues to this day, but I'll win her over. Babies just don't know the facts yet.

Beehived: Part 1

2010-09-02T20:36:00.006-06:00

The Summer is over. Or will be, soon. I don't know what the calendar says, but I've always felt that Summer runs from the first baseball game to the last. Okay maybe I haven't always felt that. But I'm declaring it now, this idea I had eighteen seconds ago when I started writing this post.

This has been one of the best summers I've ever had. Maybe the very best. Which is good, because it could have been awful. I've had some moments of darkness (suffocating darkness) but those moments were smited (not a word) by plenty of nice life affirming experiences, and I didn't even need to eat my way through Italy or pray all over India or love the crap out of Bali. Except for a Northwesterly interlude I just bumped around Utah. I took a lot of pictures and I'm going to go through them all and write about the happenings that happened, bookended by a couple of old ballgames.

This was mid-April. Summer's Eve. (I don't get it).

This was yesterday, my last game of the season.

Now let's get to everything in between.

The day after the home opener was the Scofield Adventure.

I've already written about that but here's an American Flag from that day.

FACT: if I see an American Flag flapping against the sky, I will stop to take a picture of it. I have dozens of pictures exactly like this. When I'm taking these picture I don't think I realize that they're redundant. I think "Well there's a striking image. I should preserve it for the historical record."

I searched this blog for the word "Taggarts" and came up empty. I'm amazed that I haven't mentioned Taggarts before. It's a restaurant called Taggarts in a town called Taggarts where the only thing in the town is the restaurant the town is named for. It's sits in the shade in a little bowl in the mountains, across the highway from the Ogden River.

You bet I threw rocks into that river. I threw rocks across that river. I threw rocks into the air and watched them descend as if pulled by gravity into that river.

We'll come back to Taggarts later.

Plans to open May with a camping trip were thwarted by unruly weather systems so a trip to Tooele was opted for instead, by way of Magna.

Magna is Magna. This fact cannot be called into question. But it has a cool old Main Street. I love an old Main Street.

Tooele is one of three places I claim as my ancestral homelands (trivia contest: name the other two!) Tooele County is a wasteland. Vast emptiness, salt, skulls, nuclear waste, toxic dirt. It's one of my favorite places to go. I like to drive out there and get hopelessly lost in the sagebrush canyons, driving down the long straight stretches of road unsure of where they lead. I always come back from Tooele wanderings freshly inspired.

Tooele City has grown up a lot since I was a kid. Not in a good way. It's a magnet for McMansions and McBig Box stores. But the old part is still there. Like this place where we stopped for breakfast, the seafoamiest place I've ever been in.

I worked for The Ritz-Carlton for six years. It was exactly like this.

I bet so many miners have been stabbed in this hotel.

Wandered into one of the few open businesses, a store that sells weird random crap. Like these super-gay things aimed at children.

So of course I bought that postcard of Namor. I also bought a Tiny John Adams and a Tiny John F. Kennedy. I didn't even know they made Tiny Presidents but now I want to collect them all.

Eventually I hung Namor up in the Podcast Room. Oh, did you know I do a weekly comic book podcast? Well I do. It's way nerdy. Deal with it.

Here's one of those canyons I like to get lost in. I believe this is actually the Old Lincoln Highway.

The road fed us into Skull Valley, through something called Terra and past the Dugway Proving Grounds (top secret UFO research facility).

Long road, past this murder house...

...took us to Iosepa (right).

Iosepa is a foreign word meaning "I bet these Hawaiians would like living in a treeless desert with terrible summers and worse winters."

The settlement lasted from 1889-1917. Not much left of it now, but the scent of Poi still hangs in the air.

On the way back home, spotted this sign under an overpass.

This interests me because of this AWARD WINNING FILM I made a few years ago.

Untitled from Bryton Sampson on Vimeo.

You don't actually have to watch it, just know that it exists.

(end part 1)

skakapelli

2010-08-31T23:50:00.004-06:00

The fusion of traditional Native American music and Ska is long overdue. Who wants to join my new band? I need a drummer, a flautist, and someone who can make really awesome sand paintings. We'll play gigs around Moab. We'll get a track on Pure Moods vol. 5. It's gonna be huge!

Suggestions for names? I'm thinking Skavajo Nation but I don't think Kokopelli has anything to with the Navajo.

earnestness, sincerity, dancing hippie indians

2010-08-25T14:42:00.002-06:00

I was gonna go to bed and I was like "waitaminute isn't there a Pink Floyd song called Learning to Fly and didn't I used to like that song and doesn't the video have a flying Indian?"

The answer to all that is yes. I looked up the video on YouTube and the video is a Pure Moods style time capsule of early '90s hippiedom. It's ridiculous in a wearing-a-dr.seuss-hat-around-campus-while-looking-for-your-lost-hackey-sack way. Also the song sucks.

Or does it? It's a good song but Pink Floyd ruined it. Which is weird because it's their song. What I'm saying is, someone wrote a good song and then Pink Floyd, or should I say "Pink Floyd" since it's actually some corporation made up of three guys that were in Pink Floyd, three backup singers, a percussionist playing soul-less synthetic drum pads, a dumb looking bass player with a dumb looking bass, four extra guitarists, and months of production. "Learning to Fly" at it's heart is a good song, but it was ruined by layers and layers of ultra slick production, stripped of any feeling or emotion it may have had.

So I set out to find a good cover version of it.

If you've ever looked for a song on YouTube you've no doubt run across countless cover version of that song, performed in someone's bedroom with their crummy-sounding electric guitar, the reverb turned up too high, a distant look in their eyes as they concentrate so hard, trying not to screw it up. The framing on the camera is always bad, and when they're done you see them stand up to turn the camera off. Those videos are the exact opposite of these videos.

Mrs. Pretty Barbie is saying to the world "look at me aren't I so hot aren't I so great you're so lucky to even see me" while the amateur musician videos are saying to the world "I have worked so hard on this I have spent so much time alone practicing will you please just acknowledge me and let me know I'm not alone."

Er, that's my interpretation of them anyway. I have a weird fascination with these amateur cover videos. They're so earnest. I admire earnestness and sincerity.

I finally found that cover of "Learning to Fly" that I was looking for, performed by my new favorite musician, Robert Che Hoyer.

Why do I like this guy so much? Well,

a) he's weird looking
b) I love his voice! It's so unique. His voice is the audio manifestation of the burning sensation in your esophagus after downing a shot of cheap whiskey. Best as I can tell he's a Frenchman trying to sound Irish
c) he's almost painfully earnest and sincere
d) how old is he do you think?
e) how often does he water that cactus?

He has some 180 songs on his YouTube channel, and I really think he's got something good going. He's putting a whole new angle on these songs that you've heard a million times, and revealing a side to the songs you may never have considered. Take these two for example. These are two of my favorite Beatles songs. There's no denying that these are happy little tunes, but what makes the Beatles versions so special to me is that even though they're happy and bouncy tunes there's a sense of wistfulness and melancholy hiding inside of the melodies. They manage to be optimistic and mournful at the same time. Robert Che Hoyer is able to really bring that out within the songs.

His wild strumming, his strained, unusual voice, and the fact that he sometimes makes mistakes give these songs an immediacy and an expressiveness that you'll never find in the original studio versions.

His description of this one:

"The Biggest Speedball I see cames here and say Hey I make the tube and then was THE PASSENGER"

You said it, man.

Robert Che Hoyer

okay

2010-08-22T23:37:00.003-06:00

what turns up in the dark?

2010-08-18T21:59:00.004-06:00

Whaaa what is this it's too bright!

There we go. Why that looks like Modest Mouse.

So, every summer Salt Lake City hosts the Twilight Concert Series. Apparently it's been going on for 23 years but I only became aware of it in the last three years or so. Probably around the same time the Twilight books became popular. They bring in these big-time (well, big-time for hipsters) bands to play free shows. Up until this year I'd never been so I'm telling tales out of school here but I had heard bad things. Because it's free, the shows just become a thing-to-do. Which is cool, but it means if you actually like the band playing you'll have to deal with a million people that just want to drink beer outside and show off their beards. You'll also have to deal with punk-ass tree climbers.

This year the lineup is the most exciting one yet. Two of my favorite bands, Modest Mouse and the New Pornographers were coming, which meant I finally had to go to some Twilight Concerts.

The venue this year is Pioneer Park. Sounds nice right? I guess it is a nice park on its own but it's full of bums and drug deals and broken bottle fights. My whole life there have been efforts to clean it up that have failed.

Modest Mouse! Wow what a bad experience this was. 40,000 people showed up! That's too many people for anything. The park was fenced off so there were only two entrances. I was in that line for ninety minutes. Then once I got inside the park the setup was such that all the masses of people were funneled into a funnel not big enough to hold them and I spent half an hour being all squished! I was ready to bag it when Natali heroically found me and took me to a safe place.

I guess the show was cool. I really liked Modest Mouse last time I saw them but you know, it was just them playing their songs. I guess that's what live music is. Maybe I was just in a bad mood, but I felt like something was missing. Then I went to Hires Big H and it was also too crowded.

So I was way nervous about seeing my favorite band, the New Pornographers. I don't want them to be ruined for me! I got to the park way early but sauntered right in, and found maybe two dozen people milling about the stage. Perfect!

The band had the full line-up and blasted through twenty-three songs in just under two hours. I was worried it would be an abbreviated show because of the 10pm curfew.

Usual the band has a lot of stage banter but this time they stuck with the songs.

A miserably hot day turned into a lovely night.

Fourth time I've seen them live, and definitely the best. Or at least, the most fun I've had at one of their shows. Great set-list, mixing in the favorites from all five or their albums.

And then it was over.

And then I accidentally punched Michelle in the face.

But then I went to Maverick and my favorite the Peanut Butter Twix was on sale four for $2 THAT IS UNPRECEDENTED!!!

Wow what a great night.

kicking my heart in the ass

2010-08-17T22:51:00.003-06:00

This is how I picture myself, all the time.

But I've been wrong. I'm really this.

When really, I need to be like this.

(but not gay)

I dunno. I've just been thinking a lot about Scott Pilgrim lately.

Behold! The Grandeur!

2010-07-28T11:04:00.014-06:00

I went camping.

If you want to make my brain malfunction, tell me that this happened three months ago. Three months! That's a fiscal quarter. It feels like it's been a couple weeks is all. I only looked at these pictures for the first time a couple days ago. I cannot believe how fast time is going. If anyone knows a way to slow it down, let me know. I am being serious.

Anyway, camping. This was a weekend back in May. I grabbed a sleeping bag, filled up a satchel with underpants and Elin, Becky, and I loaded into my rugged Scion and headed for the deserts of Zion National Park. In the last ten years I've been camping exactly twice before this. 50% of those times were with Elin and Becky, so they're like, my camp buddies or something. I actually enjoy camping. I just never do it because of circumstances.

We got on the road quick and finally stopped in Beaver for a controversy-free Sit Down Breakfast at the El Bambi Cafe.

The El Bambi reminded me a lot of a cafe/truck stop in a small town. I felt like people there were looking at us. Maybe it was because my car didn't fit in.

Also I ordered "buckets and gravy" and the lady had to correct me and tell me they're called "biscuits and gravy." Like I know anything about such low-brow cuisine.

Outside of St. George is the ghost of a mining town called Silver Reef.

There's an old ore bin there where reefs of silver would reef along ever so reefingly.

Lots of un-mortared sandstone structures still stand among weeds and rusted equipment.

"Falling Junk" would have sounded weird.

Thing about Silver Reef is that brand new rich-guy houses are being built right up to the edge of it. Like this one with the weird princess tower.

Zion is one of the five great National Parks in the state. I've never been before. I was completely unprepared for how amazing it would be.

I can't stress this enough: Zion is an awe-inspiring wonder. As soon as I got into the park my jaw slackened and my eyeballs got hit by lightning.

I'm probably the last person in Utah to have visited Zion, but on the off chance you haven't been, go there, now. Or wait until the weather cools down.

After quickly setting up our tent, we went for a hike.

Hiking can be very dangerous. For one thing, you could fall. Worse than that, you could look really foolish when falling. Worse still, coins could come out of your ass.

It's deserty and also woodsy so you can't lose.

The sandstone mountains stand tall in a way that my feeble mind couldn't even comprehend, vanishing into the sky.
Near the top of one of the trails it was time for one of my much sought after lectures on grandeur, and how you should sometimes turn off your ipod and listen to the sounds of nature. If you ever get the opportunity to hear one of these lectures you should jump at the chance.

There are many places where water literally falls down a mountain. I think Zion is the only place where this happens.

I took a dip in this pond. It was shallow so I had to do a lot of rolling around in order to get fully damp.

More falling water.

A woman shouted to her children, "this is like Disneyland!" I think it's better than Disneyland, because it's actual.

I bet Elin and Becky were glad to have me along, so they could take all in and really understand the grandeur. Unlike past times they may have been, where they probably thought "It's like Disneyland."

OMG A DEER!
I'm weirded out by deers. I don't know what they are. Horses? Rabbits? Walking Kangaroos?

A river.

I think I was most stunned by The Court of the Patriarchs.

Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.
This led to an Old Testament Q&A with the girls that eventually led to my conversion to Judaism.

I was being kind of a brat about having to watch the Jazz/Lakers playoff game so we went into the town of Springdale and found a sports bar overrun with fat hockey fans. I don't want to talk about the result of the Jazz game. It still hurts. Then we wandered Springdale for a while. O, the times we had!

The next morning we shook the rocks from our underpants and packed up the tent.

Okay fine, our tent was a hotel. A nice one.

One more hike before heading back.

Running parallel to this is the Watching the Watchman Trail.

I'm not completely certain, but I think we went to the very top of that mountain.

Depth perception is messed up here but I wanted to show how far we've come. On this trail, and in life.

The Zion-Mount Carmel Tunnel connects the West and East sections of the park. It's over a mile long and looks like this inside.

When you get to the other side of the park everything looks completely different. Much more wavy and dune-like. Yellow, instead of red.

Then back through the tunnel because you have to get home in time for Mother's Day Dinner.

L'Chaim!

B's Annual San Diego Comic-Con Report!

2010-07-27T23:47:00.001-06:00

I didn't go this year.

Have you seen my wife, Mr. Jones?

2010-07-16T13:24:00.010-06:00

WHAT IS THIS?

We'll get to it in a minute. So, I've been bad at blogging this year. Are blogs out? I kind of think blogs are out. It's all about twitter and facebook these days. Quick hits. Cobra strikes. Kapow!

But I'm still taking lots of pictures, because if I don't take lots of pictures it's like nothing ever really happened. Oh the places I've been! I have a huge backlog of blogworthy adventures that I've got to get to. So now for the good news.

I don't have a job!

Wait, that's terrible news. Really bad news. Really bad. Scary. Do you have one? If so, do you have a spare? I could use it.

Point is, I have free time so maybe I'll blog some more often. Or maybe I won't. I said that last time I was jobless, and it didn't really happen. So who can you trust? That's a rhetorical question.

So have you been thinking about that picture above? Did you guess that it's a woolly mammoth? If you did, you're right.

This is at the Fairview Museum, in Fairview, Utah, which is down in Sanpete County which might be the best county. It's better than Juab, and way better than Utah County, obviously. Actually I think most of my readers are in Utah County. Utah County is great!

If I remember the story right, someone was bulldozing around a lake and moved some sand around and then beheld this Woolly Mammoth skeleton. These things are tusky. I bet it would be pretty scary to run into one.

The Fairview Museum is a catch all. You've got that mammoth, and then you've got this tiger sculpture.

And then all manner of stuffed things. Like people.

I just noticed that the guy is wearing a Frito-Lay hat. That's funny.

Also stuffed birds.

And stuffed critters.

The nice ladies that volunteer there were working on a quilt. One of them won the National Museum Volunteer of the Year Award in 1993.

This picture was taken from the second floor, the art gallery. Most artists there worked in the medium of "Abraham Lincoln."

There's a second building with less dead creatures and more art and historical stuff and junk.

I think this was sculpted by one of the famous Utah sculptors. Maybe Avard Fairbanks? Mahonri Young? Maybe it was neither of them.

More death imagery.

There was a room dedicated to miniatures, and they were actually pretty impressive. Way better than the "under the sea" diorama I did in 4th grade.

There were also a lot of maxiatures. Mannequins and life-sized scenes depicting... old times.

Suggested tattoos.
Primitive robot head.

Some sort of political statement?

One of the things I liked the most were all the old photographs collected at the museum. This one is interesting because I think that kid is too young to manage a baseball team. Must be one of those stat geeks.

A long drive through a desolate canyon would take us into Carbon County and the lost city of Scofield.

Strange thing is it's really not that desolate, but on that Saturday in April it felt like the loneliest road in America. There are a few summer camps and recreation spots up there and evidence that people still work there, but it really felt like the middle of nowhere.

Coal mining is still a big deal apparently, despite... the incident.

The fields were covered in impossibly bright and pristine snow. It felt like the birthplace of grandeur.

Scofield!
Aside from the Desert Pirate encampment near Delta, this is the eeriest ghost-ish town I've ever been too.

Everything was broken and even the party ice didn't make me want to party.

The weird thing, there's a still evidence of life in Scofield. Many houses had new trucks in the driveway and satellite dishes on the roof. But we didn't see a single human or any movement the whole time we were there. Were they peering at us through shuttered windows?

Scofield is the kind of place where if you have garbage, just leave it there.

Finally, FINALLY, the Mayor of Scofield came out to greet us.

So here's what happened. May 1, 1900, 10:28am. One spark, 199 lives extinguished. The coal mine known as Winter Quarters #4 exploded, killing 100 men instantly. The other 99 died in the toxic gas cloud that filled the air after the blast. At the time, the worst coal mining disaster in U.S. history.

Most of them are buried in the Scofield cemetery, marked by matching wooden headstones.

Anyway, fun! Let's go get pizza.

(end)

The Twilight Saga: Eclipse: with Cats

2010-07-06T19:27:00.004-06:00

http://www.popsuede.blogspot.com/2010/07/twilight-saga-eclipse-with-cats.html

going to places, looking at things

2010-05-27T00:04:00.006-06:00

Well, it's been a month, guess it's time to blog again.

So, I'm 30 now. Which is really no big deal and in fact anyone reading this born before May 27, 1980 has already achieved this milestone. But I want you all to be aware of this because it seems important.

Funny thing is, I thought I was above all of the angst of getting older, but turns out I'm not. I will never be referred to as a wunderkind or boy genius, but on the other hand it's nice to get it over with. I guess.

I said it elsewhere, but really my greatest accomplishment in life is amassing some pretty great friends. For my birthday I was lucky to be surrounded by almost all my closest chums, my inner circle, my loyal cadre. We went to the Bees game which as you know if you've ever so much as glanced at this blog is one the best things to do.

Look at all these tickets!

The weather was threatening to destroy everything but luckily the rain clouds cleared out in time and made for an amazing twilight.

The game came down to the last at bat but the Bees lost. I think it would have been a nice gesture for 2002 Pacific Coast League MVP Robb Quinlan to just hit a home run in the bottom of the 9th. It was my birthday after all. I guess the loyalty between B. and Bees doesn't go both ways. Jerks.

Anyway. Good birthday.

This classic Classic Cleaners sign has shown up on the blog before but here's a fresh picture. Oh man that sign looks so good!

Back in September of 2009 three of the best bands Scotland has to offer (We Were Promised Jetpacks, Twilight Sad, and Frightened Rabbit) played a show at Urban Lounge. It was my generations Woodstock '94. All three of those acts have been back since then playing individual shows and though I love them all, the Twilight Sad show on May 14 made the rest of them look like ... lesser... acts.

Twilight Sad isn't exactly accessible. On first listen their music sounds like a wall of noise, swirling ethereal guitars underneath weird, scary lyrics. I think you need to be familiar with their music before seeing them live so you can pick out the melodies hidden within the maelstrom, and hear the power and emotion they add to their songs on stage.

Amazing show. I'm still thinking about it.

That Saturday I went to a wedding and, as usual, upstaged the bride.

Sunday. Long drive, for this:

This looks an awful lot like a Renaissance Faire, right?

The Utah Ren Faire took over a farm or field or fairgrounds or something up near Ogden. There was a lot going on there. I thought this looked cool.

Ever been to a Ren Faire? Literally everything there is called "Ye Old."

There were knights there (though not true, landed knights. Merely sell swords and free riders) doing melon slicing demonstrations and telling bad jokes in half-assed accents.

They also did a joust competition. Turns out there's a guy who's deal is that he's the world jousting champion. So that's a thing.

The jousting was kind of weak. No one was killed or even unhorsed. The lances are tipped with crumbly balsa wood so it wasn't as exciting as I'd hoped.

I don't know what the story is with these fancy people, but here's a fire eater.

Alright, here's the problem with the Renaissance Faire: it wasn't particularly "fun" or "awesome." But it also wasn't quite ridiculous enough to be enjoyed ironically either. I consider myself a Sincerest more than an Ironist, but I do get a kick out of ridiculocity as well. All I got from this was a sunburn atop my newly-shorn dome. Should have worn a hat.

You know, Martin Scorsese directed his first movie at age 30. I'm expecting big things from myself this year. Long weekend coming up. Maybe I'll finish up my novel. The prologue is done, so things are really rolling now.

next entry: desolation! dead miners! GRANDEUR!

here are those oily musclemen you ordered

2010-04-28T01:02:00.012-06:00

Today's post is about sports. You know, sports! I'll be covering the three major American sporting contests: basketball, baseball, and professional wrestling.

As of this writing the Utah Jazz are locked in a first round playoff battle with the Denver Nuggets. The series got off to a rough start when the Jazz lost badly and the Money Man was felled by a Trojan arrow. The Jazz went on to dominate the next three games and are up 3-1 on the series and looking mighty fine.

Maybe you don't care about that, but the thing you need to take away from it is that this man is coaching the Denver squad.

Look at that picture. Study it. Burn it into your memory. I feel like it may be the most important sports image of this or any generation.

That's Adrian Dantley, former Jazzman (obviously). I have one of his shoes in my possession and I'm not giving it back. If you watch any broadcast of the games the announcers are wont to remind you that Dantley played for the Jazz. They would also like you to remember that Jerry Sloan has been coaching a long time and that John McCain was a POW in Vietnam.

I went to one Jazz game during the regular season. The final game of the season in fact, vs. the Phoenix Suns. If the Jazz win that game, they get the #2 seed in the playoff. Lose, and they get #5. Sure to be a classic. One for the ages. A game you tell your kids about (if you're a bad parent).

The player introduction was exciting. And that's all I can say about that game.

This ended up being the worst live sporting experience of my life. To say the Jazz played lackadaisically is an insult to lackadaisians everywhere. Making matters worse was the whole gaggle of dorky Phoenix fans sitting in front of us, cheering every single play and holding up a big Arizona flag and just generally being dorks. I was so angry I couldn't even take a clear picture!

Well, it was a nice evening at least.

Considerably better was Game 3 of the playoffs. A game made boring in the 4th quarter because the Jazz were simply having their way with the Nuggets, like a lion toying with a jellyfish.

Now I'm not saying my seats were last row, but this was the view directly behind me.

Also it's baseball season.

The Bees are off to a rough start but they have some exciting young prospects. The Major League Twins are killing it so far, dominating their opponents like a jellyfish toying with a smaller jellyfish. I gotta say, I'm not a huge fan of Target Field so far. I miss the Metrodome and it's weirdo charm. Of course that's easy for me to say watching at home. Baseball outside is probably nicer than baseball in a tent.

What's going on here? WHAT ON EARTH IS GOING ON HERE?

Well that's pro wrestling of the WWE (formerly F) variety. I was huge nerd wrestling fan back in my younger days and recently my young brother has gotten back into it. He got front row tickets to a non-televised event and I went along. Man oh man it was fun! And unlike other, perhaps more "real" sports, with the wrestling the final result is almost always what you were rooting for.

Here Jack Swagger reacts to the agonizing pain of having someone kick the side of your calf with the top of their foot.

Here we have Cody Rhodes trying his darndest to rip Christian's arm clean off.

Occasionally they'll throw in something to appeal to the men.

I was close enough to the ring to warn that nice lady that with the way she kept bending over, we could all see her backside. Boy I bet she was embarrassed!

This guy, Lou Largeman, blatantly ignored the rules and tried to murder his opponent my crushing his larynx.

Here's a true story: I talked to that giant (The Giant) on the phone once when I worked in the hotel biz. He called to book a room for a vacation for him and his wife. I recognized his deep, otherworldly voice right away but never let on that I knew who he was. He was actually a really nice guy.

The main event featured a team-up of John Cena, HHH, and Sexy Boy Shawn HBK Michaels. Cena was so confident he openly mocked his opponents.

But maybe he didn't realize he was fighting Batista, the scariest man in the world.

Or Randy Orton, the second scariest.

While the bad guys preen and mock, the good guys plan out a strategy. That's what winners do.

Despite some back and forth action, near the end it really looked like the good guys were going to lose.

Somehow, SOMEHOW, they found some strength deep within and went on to score the victory!

Then they shared a nice tender moment.

Then HHH gave me a hi-five.

Go teams!

senseless violence!

2010-04-26T00:08:00.002-06:00

Moments ago...

So! I'm driving home from watching the Jazz game (Jazz destroyed Denver, spoiler alert) in the comfortable confines of Park Street. It's taking me forever to get home because you know how if you miss one light on 19th East you miss them all? At a stop light I get to know the cars around me and see a shiny Honda full of kids and a trashier white car full of kids and a Jeep Cherokee full of who knows what. Everyone in every car seems to be sporting Utah Jazz gear so I figure I'm caught up in post game traffic and I'm thinking "good win fellas, good win!"

When 19th curves around and turns into Cottonwood Expressway, the Cherokee flips it's brights on, and now I think "That's not very nice, doesn't he know that's probably bothersome to the Honda in front of him?" Then the kids in the white car starts flipping off the Cherokee, and the Cherokee starts driving all crazy-like. Flashing his brights and whipping around the other cars and just behaving erratically. I'm hanging back watching this with growing suspicion. At this point there are no other cars around.

We get to the intersection where I would normally turn to go home. The Honda is in the left lane, the white car in the right lane, and the Cherokee in the right turn lane. I think everything is cool but notice that the Cherokee isn't turning. Why wouldn't it be turning? It's in the turn lane. I get closer and notice people getting out of the Cherokee. "Okay," I think. "They all must be buddies just horsing around." But I decide not to get into my turn lane, wanting to just make sure everything is cool. As I pull up right behind them I see a big white dude in a white shirt from the Cherokee yank open the back passenger door of the Honda, grab the kid with one hand and start BEATING the shit out of him. I've seen fights and been in a fights (well, in jr. high) but I've never seen anything like this. It was like pro wrestling, but real. The guy is just throwing haymakers at the kid. Big, violent swings. I couldn't believe it. I really just haven't seen anything like it before.

Without thinking at all, I simultaneously try to throw my car into park, flip on my brights, honk my horn, call 911, and undo my seatbelt and get out of my car. I don't know what I was planning on doing but I was running on instinct and felt like I had to stop it. It was horrible.

I'm not trying to puff myself up here, and as you'll soon find out I didn't actually do anything. It's just interesting. These things happen and you kind of black out. One time I saw a head-on collision right in front of me. I asked this poor bloodied schlub if he was okay and he screamed "I'm seriously hurt, please call an ambulance!" and I just stood there with my phone in my hand, completely frozen. I don't know how long I stood there but finally someone else ran up and said that they had called 911. You just don't know how you react in those situations.

Anyway, the Cherokee re-gathers its occupants and drives away. I jump back into my car and speed after it, I'm keeping a distance but close enough to notice it doesn't even have a license plate. Great! I finally get through to 911. Do you have an iPhone? Isn't it great? Well good luck trying to dial 911 while not crashing your car. I'm on the phone with the operator and trying to follow the Ragers but they lose me in a neighborhood. I drive around the 'hood a bit but it's too much of a maze. They're long gone. I hang up with 911, urging them to call me if they need more info, and hope for the best.

On my way home a growing feeling of unease overtakes me. You always hear about road rage and certainly I've been flipped off before and I've been the flipper-offer before too, but to actually see someone get out and deliver severe blows to some kid? WTF? What could have possibly warranted that? I was also freaked out because before all the madness started I was looking at the people in the car, in their Jazz jerseys, and since they were going the same way as me I wondered if it even could have been my brother and his friends. They were just whimpy little kids, maybe 18, 19 years old, coming home from what was probably a great night at the gym watching a fun Jazz victory. Maybe they were driving like punk-ass teenagers, but come on man! Come on!!!

So I decide to take one last drive through the neighborhood where the Cherokee disappeared, just hoping I could spot it and tip off the good folks of the Murray Police Department. I actually like the Murray PD, if you remember THIS.

I cruise around the neighborhood, turn a corner and see a group of people standing in front of a house. Looking closer, there's the Cherokee. It's them.

What do I do?

THE STUPIDEST THING POSSIBLE!

I wasn't thinking, at all. Like, literally not thinking. I don't mean that in the way of like "Ah geez, I made a mistake, I failed to visualize the possible results of my actions." I mean, I wasn't thinking at all and could have totally borked the whole operation.

I slow down, eye the group of punks standing on the sidewalk, roll down my window and say "Oh, it's you guys." They say "What?" and I say "The fuckers that think it's okay to beat someone at a stop light." Who do I think I am, McNulty? Daniels would have been so pissed. Then from out of the crowd the guy in the white shirt that did the beating comes charging at my car! Ohhhhhhhh no. I speed off but only to the next corner. I flip around and call 911. I have a view of the escape route but they can't see me. I call 911 back and give them the address. Um, whoops. I left my lights on, so the whole time the Ragers knew exactly where I was. They come around the corner and pull side-by-side with me. The driver stares at me through his window making the most ridiculous Tough Guy Face I've ever seen, which causes me to say to the 911 dispatcher "He's looking at me. He's making a Tough Guy Face repeat he's making a Tough Guy Face!"

At this point it finally dawns on me that I could be in way over my head. I finally drive back the way I came and turn down a street that's a dead end. I'm telling 911 "I think they're after me now. I'm at a dead end. They're chasing me. Can we get the fellas here a little quicker please I'm being chased." There are headlights behind me and growing brighter and I manage to turn the car around to escape. The headlights get closer, then another set come from another direction, then another set from the third direction. And? They're all Murray PD. PHEWWWWWWWW!

I tell one of the guys what happened. A nice old Hawaiian man in traditional Hawaiian clothes comes out and says "Are you looking for a guy? I saw him running! He's hiding over there! Aloha!"

So uh, that's about it. I don't know what happened after that other than that I came home and started typing this. You read this far hoping for closure and you got none. I completely disregarded the three act structure. Sigh. Well I'm gonna take a xanax and try to get some sleep.

* some specific details have been altered because for some reason that seems like the right thing to do.

Gentleman Buffalo

2010-03-28T00:37:00.006-06:00

What's going on here?

That's me, bottom left. This is a screenshot from the film Gentleman Broncos. I was an extra in that there picture. See ^^ ? This isn't my first time as an extra. In the mid-'90s I spent an honest day working as an extra on the show Promised Land, but even though I got a close-up I didn't make the final cut. Also I got sunburned really badly. The sun is my enemy.

I filmed my Broncos role almost a year ago to the day. I was jobless so when the call went out from a friend-of-a-friend needing extras I jumped at the chance, even though it meant waking up before 1pm. It was a fun experience really. In this scene I'm reacting to Jemaine Clement. I really like that Jemaine. He wasn't there though, they filmed his scene the day before. Cinemagic, folks.

The movie came out last fall and though I was cautiously optimistic, it ended up being, um, kind of bad. Really bad. Pretty much the worst movie I've ever seen. To say nothing of anyone involved in the film, who I'm sure are all very nice people. But wow. I walked out of the theater feeling strange, almost sick. Still, on that day a year ago I got a free bottle of water, the fancy Hollywood stuff, and a crisp money bill. So you know, whatever.

I was scheduled to be there all day but the shoot only took about an hour. Since I was up so early and had nothing planned for the day, I decided to explore. I went north. I went west. Then I went north again. I got lost. It was grey and dark and snowing. I decided to drive to the Great Salt Lake and throw rocks into it. Strange thing is, even though the Great Salt Lake is really big, like, really big. I know in general where it is, but I've never really stood upon it's salty shores.

I felt like I was getting closer because suddenly there were no buildings. In fact there was nothing at all.

I guess I was in farm country? I don't know what they're farming out there but the air smelled like cow shit.

Quite by accident, I stumbled upon the Antelope Island Causeway, which probably would have been easy to find if I was actually looking for it. It was a nice surprise. I'd wanted to go there ever since I was a tyke but I've never made it out there.

At the entrance to the causeway a very rude park ranger told me the price was $12 per car which seemed like an awful lot. I told him I was but one man, and my car was small. I promised to take only pictures and leave only footprints, but he wouldn't budge. I figured it wasn't worth it and maybe I should come back some other time with a car full of all my rowdy friends. I turned around, but then remembered the Adventurer's Creed ("If you find something better to do, do that"), so I turned around again and paid the $12. The park ranger was pretty smug about this development. "I knew you'd come back," he said with a sinister tone.

I put on my trunks and couldn't wait to jump into the freezing, cloudy, rotten-egg smelling water, but my dreams were soon crushed.

The GSL is so big. So big I find it disturbing. I'm freaked out by vastness. Space, the ocean, the GSL. The lake is especially off-putting because at least with the ocean you know it's teeming with life. This thing is home to only brine shrimp, seagulls, and a monster with the body of a crocodile and the head of a horse.

I got out to take some pictures and the cold wind stung my face, attacking me with frozen salt. I felt unwelcome there.

The Wikipedia entry for Antelope Island doesn't want to discuss it, but the place is definitely haunted.

Maybe on a sunny summer day when it's filled with fit cyclists and friendly buffalo you get a different feeling, but on this day I was the only person on the whole island. Seriously I didn't see another human the whole time I was there.

This little snow-covered mountain was more impressive in real life. It was like, all 3-D n' shit.

The shores. Mud flats and marshes.

Over a hundred and sixty years ago some fool decided this would be a good place to live.

Well, I guess the whole Wasatch Front looked like that at the time, so it was as good a place as any. This fence surrounds the Fielding-Garr Ranch, the oldest Whitey made structure in all of Utah. It surrounds a natural spring and there's evidence that people have been springing around there for over 1,000 years.

It looked so inviting I had to go in for a closer look.

There's a storeroom full of original ranch stuff. It's spook in there, and colorless.

Whaaa!
Murder supplies!

It was really neat inside. I'm glad I had the place all to myself.

Though I question the placement of this "no trespassing" sign. I'm no rancher but I think it should be on the outside.

Unless the no trespassing mandate was limited to that particular area of the storeroom.

This truck was owned by Fielding Garr himself. Bought it in 1848 for only six Deseret Dollars.

I was alarmed by an otherwordly sound and turned to find a cage full of dragons!

Spooky swamp around the spring.

I crossed through it to get to another ranch building.

This building felt less like a museum than the storeroom and more just like an abandoned house.

I hate it when they tease us with unusable toilets.

Well of course it's not for "public" use, it's for private use. Toiletry tends to be a very private act.

The living area was set up to feel lived in. I keep repeating itself, but it was so eerie. On any other day it might have felt like a slice of the past but on that grey windy day it just felt apocalyptic, like The Road.

Some great family portraits in the living area.

The kids.
Mr. and Mrs.

The Victorian equivalent of the Farrah Fawcet poster.

When I'm in haunted buildings I always take pictures of mirrors, in case they turn out to be ghost mirrors.

What is that glowing thing appearing through the doorway? It could be a ghost, or it could be daylight. We'll never know.

This is the, uh, North or maybe East side of the island. Might be the west side. This picture was taken looking down from a hill. Doesn't give a good sense of scale as the shoreline was really far away from where I was.

The island is famous for it's buffalo (bison) population. A herd was herded to the island for protection when white folk was busy killing them all and the herd has thrived there ever since. I didn't see any though. I went to an area called the Buffalo Holding Pens, where I saw no buffalo. Again, I was completely alone but for the sound of wind and creaky fences creaking and clanging. No adult supervision at all. Surely there are park rangers there right? So weird.

Finally I was just overwhelmed by the weird feeling and I had to get off that island. This summer I want to go back and see it when it's maybe green and stuff.

Oh, I guess I did see one buffalo, I tried to photograph every part of it but failed. I don't know how the Native-Americans did it.

its name is my name

2010-02-28T22:03:00.002-07:00

A few nights ago I was Googling my name which is, you know, the best possible use of my time. I found this:

It's a beer, an ale to be precise, named after me! How is this possible?

It's an Italian beer, and here's the story: so you've got these people called the Ligures or the Liguri, who lived in a land called Liguria, which is now Tuscany and a little bit of Southern France, Bavaria, and other dark and woodsy places. They were a barbarian people and were eventually soaked up by the Gauls and then the Romans. You know how that goes.

In a cup in a tomb of a Liguri king, they found traces of ale, and this beer is an attempt to recreate that recipe. Why is it called Bryton? Because that's what the Liguri called this beverage.

I've often wondered about the origin of my name, and though I don't think it's what my parents had in mind, guess it turns out I'm named after the world's oldest beer.

Seems like if there's a beer named after me, or vice versa or whatever, I should taste it. Very least, I should have a bottle to add to my collection of beer bottles (yes I collect beer bottles, which is one of the many things I may have to give up some day if I ever want to stop being a man-child). So I wrote to them to see if how I could possibly get my hands on some and they responded -

Dear Mr Bryton…I understand and appreciate your desire to taste the Bryton beer, the oldest beer in the world to have been brewed with flavorful hop. But without a US distributor it will not be easy to ship it over to you. This could then be a chance for you to make a good deal and become the US distributor of Bryton Beer.

I'm considering it. Might be hard work though and I don't really like filling out paperwork so probably not. But who knows? Maybe I could be the next great beer baron, like that tool in the Sam Adams commercials.

On the other hand, by becoming a distributor I might become associated with this guy, and I'm not sure that's something I want.

war of relocation

2010-02-11T18:11:00.004-07:00

Let's go back out into the wasteland, eh? If you've been reading this blog for a while you've seen (and no doubt enjoyed) some of my "Adventure Days," little road trips I, along with various crew members, like to take to weird, interesting, historic, abandoned, etc. places within relatively close driving distance of the home office in Salt Lake. A region I've spent a lot of time in is the West Desert and Great Basin area to the Southwest of where I am right now. When I say "spent a lot of time" I mean, "have been out there three or four times." Nevertheless, I feel like if you needed a guide for an adventure of your own there's no one better than me.

On a recent Saturday I sure as heck needed to get away, and though I can't speak for my traveling companion Elin, I would have to assume she needed to get away as well. I was feeling antsy, the air in the valley had been unbreathable, I needed a reason to update this blog again, and some dudes were looking to wail on me so a road trip seemed prudent. We decided to go the Eureka-Delta route and see what we could see.

Eureka has been blogged about here before. We breezed right through it this time but I turned around and went to gasoline because I would have been really embarrassed if we ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere. This gas station is also a motel, but I kept poking around inside and couldn't figure out where the motel part of it would be.

The road from Santaquin (which is just off the main stretch) to Delta (nowhere near any sort of stretch) is a long one dotted with small loosely organized communities, tipped over sheds, and swampy woodland areas with dead twisted trees, beautiful in their astounding ugliness. Delta is an oasis, such as it is, floating out there in the desert. It exists mostly for it's noteworthy Alfalfa and concentrated Berilium.

We got into town and just bumped around a bit. We were on our way down one road when a barking dog chasing after two barking dogs in a truck changed our course.

When you're in small town and you see a goofy little dog chasing after two goofy big dogs, and those big dogs are in a slow moving pick-up, it's best to stop whatever you're doing and follow that scene. Because maybe that little dog is leading you to something interesting? Like this!

The ooooold schoolhouse.

The front door was locked but it seemed like something we should go inside. Luckily the back door was open. In fact the back door was missing.

It's normal for a school to have a toilet, but there was also a bathtub in their. It was filled with dirt.

Check out this awesome revolutionary wallpaper. Everything you need to know, right there.

The floorboards were creaky and covered in tetanus bearing nails, and there were dead birds everywhere. Not the most inviting of environments.

A ways out of town, down a lonely dirt road is an interesting site. It's guarded by this message on a rock, maybe a thousand years old. They think the message is from one tribe giving another tribe permission to hunt (on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and every other Wednesday)

Hiking! We headed up a mountain to get a look at a weird rock. The vastness of the scenery below was hard to comprehend. Aside from that poor excuse for a road there were no signs of human life, literally as far as the eye could see.

This here, is a big pile of rocks.

I'm just trying to give you a sense of atmosphere.

So get a load of this rock. It's called, appropriately, the Great Stone Face.

Whaaa! It looks exactly like Joseph Smith, the inventor of Utah!

The face was found by Mormon pioneers exploring the area in the 1800s. You can imagine their surprise. Got to admit, the resemblance is striking. I'd imagine that the Native cultures of centuries ago held a certain reverence for the rock as well.

So! Let's shift gears a little bit. Imagine you're just chillin' in the country you call home. You were born there and you've carved out a little niche for yourself and in your free time maybe you just like riding your bike around and playing baseball. Then the country your parents were born in go and bomb your new country, and you're like "Not cool, dudes!" but no one cares for your not-cool sentiments and they figure, well, despite your Schwinn and your baseball glove you're probably no different from the guys that bombed us. Why don't you come with us, they say. And then they put you on a truck and put you on a train and put you on a truck and drop you off in the Topaz Internment Camp.

Where the scenery is flat, the summers are hot and the winters are cold, and you're behind tall barbed wire fences watched by guards with machine guns. Kind of a bum deal yeah?

Topaz War Relocation Center covered 31 square miles and housed about 9000 Japanese and Japanese-Americans during WWII. An interesting tidbit from Wikipedia about the name:

Topaz was originally known as the Central Utah Relocation Center, but this name was abandoned when administrators realized that the acronym was naturally pronounced "Curse." The camp was then briefly named for the closest settlement, until nearby Mormon residents (with their own heritage of forced relocation) demanded that their town name not be associated with a "prison for the innocent." The final name, Topaz, came from a mountain which overlooks the camp from 9 miles (14.5 km) away.

The 442nd RCT of the 100th Battalion was a military unit made up entirely of Japanese-Americans and became the most highly decorated combat unit in the history of the U.S. Army. Many of the boys in the unit returned from the war and were sent straight back to Topaz. WTF?

There's not much of anything left out there, but the stillness of the air and the disinterested landscape gives off a real eerie feeling.

Don't try to step on those holes, you'll fall.

Shot and killed by the guards for standing too close to a fence.

Topaz.

Further reading: Topaz Museum.

Topaz was a long way from the town of Delta, through a gridwork of roads playing home to cluttered farms and fields of sagebrush. There's a post-apocalyptic feel to the place. Everything is feels recently abandoned, and even though there is evidence of mankind everywhere you can't help but feel isolated. To see what I mean, look at this house.

It just tipped right over! Why did it tip over? Why was it there in the first place? Why did the owner leave a perfectly good case of tampons and plastic cups sitting inside?

It feels like something out of Cormac McCarthy's the Road. Everything out there does. I wonder how long that tipped over house will be there. In fifty, a hundred years, will it have been cleared to make way for bright new houses and man-made lakes? Or will it's decay continue unchecked, a forgotten relic of a forgotten person, reclaimed by nature, as it will reclaim us all? Ah I'm freaking myself out.

Shortly after examining the house, we discover the fate of its owner. Quicksand.

It was time to go home, but one perilous obstacle stood between us and the highway. Desert Pirates!

These people were very clear about us keeping out of their stuff. They do not suffer trespassers lightly! And they fly the Jolly Roger so who knows what they're up to? Again, the questions plague me: why are those people out there? What are they hiding? Why are they so suspicious of me and my doubloons?

Well the good news we made it through sans incident.

When we got back to civilization Elin and I celebrated with some snacks. I had a Charleston Chew. I'm not sure what she had.

The Past

2010-01-05T23:06:00.009-07:00

I wake up in a bed that's not mine.

I don't know where I am. This is all too fancy. This is not my baroque brass lion!

The view from the window. Judging by the growth pattern on those leaves, I'm in pre-Dutch Manhattan.

Oh hello! So as the year wound down (you remember that, it was last week) I felt compelled to compile a few Best of the Year and Best of the Decade lists. I always get nervous about those things. What if I screw up? What if I list my eleventh favorite movie as my eighth favorite movie? I battled anxiety for a while and finally made some lists. I don't know why. It's like if I don't document things like that I'm not really alive.

When making those lists I joked (quietly, to myself) that I should make a list of Best Days of the Decade. Then it occurred to me that my own stupid life is well documented enough via pictures, blogs, twitters, e-mails, texts, and internet message boardings, that I probably could make a list of my best days. I didn't actually go that far, but I did quickly conclude that January 4, 2004 was my official Best Day of the Decade.

Now, was that really my Best Day? Probably not. I've oft contended (and I stand by that contention) that the best times are the ones you can never describe. Crazy adventures out of '80s movies rarely happen in real life and when they do they're usually disappointing. The best times can't be captured and put into a jar.

That said! January 4, 2004 was a really good day. It was a good time in my life, generally. I was as carefree as a boy with a falcon.

Yes, it was perhaps the last time I was truly carefree for an extended period of time. No one in my family had taken ill yet, I wasn't involved in any sort of relationship (or attempted relationship), which... you know, relationships are great but come with their own variety of stressors, I really liked my job, I thought I was some sort of big-shot award winning film student, I really thought I had it all figured out. Looking back, I was really just a know-nothing kid. But to a know-nothing kid marching around New York City with no regard for anything outside of your immediate sphere is pretty great.

So this was the real view from my window that morning. Back then I worked for a luxury hotel chain. This occasionally allowed me to stay at five star hotels for cheap (free). It was a pretty sweet gig. This was a work trip, where a group of us went to learn all about the hotels in Manhattan, in theory to allow us to sell them better.

The first three nights were a lot of fun. Big-deal dinners and fancy-pants hotel suites. Treated like royalty we were! After that the party of co-workers went home but my friend SeanE and I stayed behind for three more days.

Pouring rain that morning, my favorite kind of weather. I decided to go for a walk through Central Park. The doorman was asleep at the wheel so I had to push the door open by myself (like common gutter trash). As I did that a damp and scowling Natalie Portman pushed her way passed me, pausing only long enough to give me a real dirty look. Here's an accurate recreation.

Central Park was great.

I wanted to try to find out where the ducks go in winter but it turns out the ducks were still there. Stumbled my way into Bethesda Terrace and it's lovely angel fountain.

She stood under an umbrella. Her expression betrayed nothing.

"Bryton-" she said, choking on the N. Struggling to say it, to say the words she found so hard. "I'm... I'm sorry."

Her face, her impossible face, twisted into a wince, a dam holding back tears. I wrapped my hand around hers and lowered the umbrella.

"Just this once Natalie, just this once let yourself feel. Let it rain my darling, just let it rain."

I don't know how long we stood there, embraced. No matter how long, it wasn't enough.

"It's time." I said, releasing her from my arms.

"Don't." She said.

"I have to." I turned my back to her, to make it easier for both of us. When I turned around, she was gone.

I looked up to the heavens, where the clouds seemed darker than before.

"You take good care of her Zach Braff. You take good care of her!"

Then a bunch of hippies came along and ruined my moment, as usual.

The rainy day gave way to night, which made the bright lights of the city that much brighter, the colors that much deeper.

The city had the romance and mystery to it that it's supposed to have, if the endless pools of ink and miles of film devoted to New York are to be believed.

It also had Beeker.
I love this neon sign. I think this is the third time I've bl'gged it.

I'd heard tell of a bar called Pravda in NoHo.

It's underground, and to get to the room you pass through a steel door and a velvet curtain. I was like, "oooooh!" I guess at the time it was a real hotspot with the local douches. When me and SeanE were there it wasn't very crowded at all, which was really nice. Maybe it wasn't a hot spot at all. Maybe some New York scenester is reading this and thinking me a hayseed. Well whatever. They have a great martini there called the Nolita. And I fell in love with the bartendress (I got over Natalie pretty quickly I guess). Look, I know you don't believe me but we had a special connection, me and that barkeep. A special connection!

Fine.

Pouring rain and, several drinks into it, we decided to walk the empty streets to McSorley's Old Ale House, the oldest continuously operating bar in the U.S. (1854) and one of my favorite spots on earth.

Hey look it's in comic books!

Soaking wet, we warmed by the coal stove.

The place smells like beer, sawdust, and mustard. Just like any Irishman. It's covered with the ephemera of bygone days (auld lang synes) and nothing has been removed from the walls since 1910.

That's John, he's a great server. He knows me, tell him hello.

These dust-covered wishbones were hung up by doughboys on there way to fight the Huns in the green fields of France in the Great War. Legend has it the returning soldiers would come back to claim them, so the remaining bones belong to the fellas cut down in the trenches.

In the '60s "Honest" Abe Lincoln gave a speech at the nearby Cooper Union (a speech that established him as a legitimate candidate for President) and afterward celebrated with an ale at McSorley's. Woody Guthrie staged a few union rallies there, Theodore "Ted" Roosevelt was known to pop in from time to time. John Lennon liked it there and Elvis once drunkenly sang on top of a table. Also I've been there.

In the entire history of the bar there has always been a set of two cats living there, always a red one and a grey one, and always named Red and Minnie. Also, they're camouflaged!

The cheese platter. Best meal I had that entire trip.

They only serve two drinks there: house-brand dark and house-brand light. At the time it was two glasses for $2.50 but I hear it's now up to $4.50. I think we can blame George W. Bush for that one.

So we um, had a lot to drink and were on the verge of going under when some regular named Jerry came in and threw a rolled up newspaper at one of the cats. Turns out that Jerry guy is the night watchman. He'd had a rough day. The commotion gave us a second wind and we ended up staying another few hours. Eventually we ended up in Times Square. Somehow.

The first thing I remember is giving a couple bucks to a homeless because I thought he was Aragorn. Then we asked a cop for directions to the liquor store.

Gay.

It wasn't even that late but Times Square was totally abandoned and eerily quiet. So I took pictures like Tom Cruise in Vanilla Sky.

Good day.

Christmas 2009

2009-12-25T04:02:00.000-07:00

Days of Peaches, Nights of Thunder

2009-12-21T00:40:00.006-07:00

Well, that was something wasn't it? The whole Twilight thing. I spend four hours one night making my silly little lolcats and next thing I know everything blows up! I went viral, so I guess that's one more thing I have in common with bird flu. It's all been quite fun, but I think it's time to press onward and get back to our regularly scheduled programming.

Oh, and I know I've been plugging this a lot, but if you've missed it my new website is http://www.popsuede.com. Lolcats movie reviews and other pop-culture shenanigans will be taking place over there, so head on over and become a follower. Bookmark it. Send me money and snacks.

Back to what this blog does best: Adventure! This was a fine Saturday back in September, where Lady Elin, TR, Terrence, and I went on a trip to Ferron, Utah for the annual Peach Days festival (not to be confused with Brigham City's own Peach Days festival, which I'm sure is inferior) (and in turn should not be confused with Hurricane's Peach Days festival, which may or may not be inferior but is probably pronounced all weird).

Where is Ferron? Nobody knows. It's not on what anyone would consider a beaten path, though it does have a claim to fame: in the '90s it produced three champion bull riders.

It's a ways into the desert, past the Viking burial mounds.

Peach Days was packed with big events. Starting with the soapbox derby race.

Yeah, I would have thought the one on the left would have done better too. Seems more aerodynamic. Probably didn't want it bad enough.

The lil' tykes would race down hill and then get towed back up by four-wheelers.

After the races we went to find the town's social hot spot.

Then lunch at the (shudder) Grub Box.

I didn't want to eat there. Growing up "grub" was a slang term meaning that someone had touched your food with their damn dirty hands. As in "Looks like someone grubbed the chicken. Better throw it away."

Rich guy like this means one thing...

...high stakes horse racing.

That's a good picture, that one there.

Some of the racers had themselves fancy racing pants and flamboyant silks, while some had t-shirts, jeans, and bike helmets. The fancy guys always ended up winning.

Adjourned to a park for some grass layin'. A horrible crime took place in that tree.

Just outside of town is a canyon leading into the Manti-LaSal National Forest. That is some stunning scenery up there.

Something eerie about this partially dry lake bed.

The final event of the day: DEMOLITION.

Then the sky exploded and it got dark.

I think I've said this before, but the best part of the Demoliton Derby is when the cars crash into each other.
You know what? At no point during Peach Days did I consume a peach. I didn't even see a Peach. Huh.

disorder

2009-12-08T23:22:00.003-07:00

My insomnia has been real bad lately. Wait, I don't like the term insomnia. That sounds like an infection. I ain't been sleeping so good lately. I can be as tired as a day laborer but as soon as that light goes off every thought a person is capable of having charges through my head. I do come up with a lot of good blog ideas, twitters, and chapter titles for my novel but I forget them by morning.

Morning! Morning comes too early. I wake up long before the alarm is set and can't get back to sleep. My heart is pounding and my thoughts are upturned. Not cool Zeus!

More interesting than not sleeping though is Hypnogagia. Look it up! Basically it's a disorder where your brain and your body don't wake up at the same time. Maybe your brain wakes up but your body is still in sleep paralysis. So you lay there awake, but can't move. Also, you hallucinate monsters. Fun!

This has happened to me four times, most recently last night.

The first time I was a kid. Just four or five. I woke up and perceived that Star Wars aliens were in my room staring at me. Like three Nien Numbs or something.

No seriously, monsters. See, your brain is awake, but not completely, and for whatever reason you conjure up hallucinations of usually unpleasant things. I'd wager most alien abduction cases can be explained by this.

Anyway, shortly after the Nien Numb incident I was told that there had been an earthquake. That's an important fact.

The second time I was older, late teens. This time I woke up to a vampire at the foot of my bed. a large one. Guess what? There was also an earthquake that night. So apparently an earthquake shakes my bed with just enough force to wake me up halfway.

I should point out, these hallucinations, you don't actually "see" them, you just kind of know that they're there. Like how right now you know that maybe there's a wall behind you or whatever even though you can't actually see it.

The third time was the scariest and longest incident. I had fallen asleep with the tv on and woke up to find myself watching the Simpsons, even though I didn't want to be. I couldn't move and it lasted long enought that I could actually think "I can't move. I can't close my eyes. I shouldn't be looking at the Simpsons right now but I can't close my eyes." I perceived, just off the side of my bed, a large goblin creature. It was horrible and malicious. This lasted an estimated 45 minutes (probably 10 seconds in actuality) before I noticed that my bed was shaking. Aha! I put it all together and realized that earthquakes caused these bizarre dream things.

Except there actually wasn't an earthquake that night. Huh.

Last night I woke up and there was an (imaginary) intruder in my room. I responded like I would if it was a real intruder. Cooly and calmly. My exact words, out loud (I think) were "Huh? Huh? Huh? What? What do you want? What is it? Oh my god. Ohhh my god." Finally I was able to move and flipped on a light. No intruder. Felt my bed rattle, but no earthquake.

Well, that's today's story.

Movie Review: The Twilight Saga: New Moon

2009-11-25T23:38:00.016-07:00

Eclipse lolcats are go! head over to

http://www.popsuede.com/2010/07/twilight-saga-eclipse-with-cats.html

Well, the latest installment of the Twilight series is breaking box office records all over the place. I contributed to that as I saw it with a packed house on Saturday afternoon. How could I resist, after having so much fun at the first one last year? It was an interesting experience, as my audience had a maniacal cackler who almost provided more entertainment than the movie itself.

Before I get to my detailed review (I am educated in film so expect serious criticism), I want to mention the movie's soundtrack. I think a lot of indie rock fans were up in arms over some of the bands on there. I don't know, I don't put much stock in the whole "selling out" concept, and I've been listening to it and there really are a lot of great tracks. Thom Yorke, BRMC, Grizzly Bear, Editors.... um, uh... oh geez.

Keyboard Cat? Waitaminute... my review has been hi-jacked! I guess we're doing this again...

New Moon!

don't forget to become a follower at www.popsuede.com !

friends in low places: addendum: secrets

2009-11-20T00:43:00.005-07:00

My last post was about Eureka. I have some leftover pictures from a trip there in 2002 that are just sitting on my hard drive not doing anybody any good. Might as well post them right? What's the point of pictures if you don't blog them? It's like they don't even exist.

Hey what's this thing? I always see it. I don't know what it is. Something about mines probably. Reminds me of Jabba's Palace. There was a day some friends of mine went up there, but I couldn't make it because I slept in. I regret that day.

Somewhere there's a path where you can drive straight up a mountain and find some old mines and camps and shacks and stuff.

I worry that the hills are crawling with hobos. And mountain hobos are way more dangerous than city hobos, because they don't want your money, they want your hide.

I don't think you can tell unless you click on this picture, but someone has spray painted some graffiti on that wall. They went all the way up there, spray paint in hand, in order to write the phrase... "Denver Bronco."

Maybe John Elway did it.

This secret road will take you into town. It's not secret if you know where it is though, or know how to recognize a road when you see one.

The most ineffective local law enforcement agency in all the country!

You've seen the ruin, the broken down police busses, the graves of the miners, the abandoned homes. Behold! The mansion of the fat cat that profited from all this malaise!

Ooh I hate fat cats! With their palaces up on the hill and their nice views!

So! Do you think these fat cats would spend any time with the proletariat, even in death? Of course not!

Last time I mentioned the secret cemetery in the woods. It was for the mine owners families. Actually many of them died in mining accidents. Which is sad.

It's hidden and I don't know how to find it again. It's probably not even hidden or a secret. I bet I could google it. I don't want to though I like mystery.

Legend has it one of the fellas died in the mine and ... something something... haunts the woods looking for his lost shoes. Oooooooh!

friends in low places

2009-11-14T16:07:00.005-07:00

Microsuede: The Return - Chapter 1

We're going back to August 14, 2009, the last hour of the last day of work.

I only worked at this place for three months. It was nice. There were free sodas and ramen and a wonderful, and I mean wonderful, coffee machine. Oh the coffee I drank! But I left for greener pastures. The last day of a job is always anti-climactic. You expect it to be like the finale of MASH but instead it's like, "okay, seeya," and you walk out the door and the phones keep ringing whether you're there to answer them or not.

So! I took off around 3pm. My friend Joy was in town, sort of. She lives in a wigwam deep within the Sonoran Desert but was in Utah for one night only! visiting family. Problem was she was way down there in Utah and I was way up here so we each drove a couple hours and met in one of my favorite weird deserty rural areas, the Santaquin-Elberta-Genola-Eureka quadrangle, where my people come from.

First order of business was trying to find the secret cemetery off the highway in the woods. I assumed I could find it myself. Nevermind that the side of the road it's on is nothing but miles and miles of land with no distinguishing features at all. So I couldn't find it but we did make our way to the big uh, grain silo (?) that reigns over the sagebrush like a liege lord. I was really excited to spray paint my name on it but as usual, that bastard Zeb got there first.

Back to Eureka, a town with one gas station and no business as far as I could tell. Not even a diner. This place is not really a "small town," it's a ghost town that happens to have a bunch of people living in it. Don't count them out just yet though, because they still host the annual Tintic Silver Days Parade and Festival. Apparently we had just missed the big bike race down main street. Curses!

The parade was the next day and people were getting their booths ready. Like this sword and knife retailer.

A weird lurpy guy emerged from a camper to talk to us for a while. He was really nice but also a little bit on the creepy side. His job is go to small town parades dressed as Abe Lincoln. He didn't have a beard so I'm assuming he uses a prosthetic, but he did have hair on his face in areas that hair is not usually found so that was gross.

I'm not sure what this is about.

I guess Eureka is so far off the grid that you can just brazenly advertise lawlessness. I made my own sign: "Wanted: drugs and prostitutes and bootleg DVDs of Season 3 of Mad Men."

I didn't even know The Magic Organ released a second album.

I would imagine that in a town such as this Chair Sittin' is one of the main forms of recreation. You can only spend so much time looking at Main Street before you want a change of scenery though.

Hey remember how Amelia Earhardt crash landed in Eureka in 1928? That's kind of neat.

"Lady Lindy,' Famous Woman Flier, Forced to Land Near Tintic."

I suppose if I had a mannequin of a sad lady I'd have her stare out the window all day too.

Lots of cool old buildings though, sadly broken down. Or maybe that they're broken down is what makes them cool.

Bench sittin', couch watchin'.

We went up to the non-hidden cemetery to find my kin. I wasn't able to do that last time I was there because it was covered in snow.

This mysterious denim jacket fills me with unease. I'll never be able to see one of those without thinking of Bob from Twin Peaks.

And why is it hung up against that fence post? And what is that fenced in area anyway? If it's a gravesite it's overgrown and long forgotten. Does Bob keep it there for when he rises from the Black Lodge?

Dunno.

So here's Charles and Hannah M. Sampson.

In the late 1800s they emigrated from Swavorska, Finland with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Along with many others from their village they settled in what would soon be a thriving silver mining community. They built a life from nothing, picking up a modest patch of land where they ran a boarding house. They were popular amongst the locals, and eager to help a weary traveler or just anyone who needed a place to stay.

Amazing to think that I am the sum of their actions. If not for them (*and other ancestors too of course but we're not talking about them now), I would not be where I am today. If one aspect of their lives had turned out differently, I may never have existed. I couldn't help but think of that as I stood at their final resting place, how they have no idea of who I even am and yet I am a living representation of everything they worked so hard for. In some ways, I am the very purpose of their lives, just as the very purpose of my life may one day be a child many, many years from now. It's an awesome responsibility to carry and encourages me to live a life of meaning.

Look I made The Hulk and Admiral Ackbar fight!

We took some backroads out of town and stumbled across this cat, sneaking across the road to harass some chickens.

Next thing we know we're surrounded by literally (this time I'm using literally in a literal way) a dozen cats, all of different colors and with different personalities. They were friendly and cute and I thought about maybe taking a couple as souvenirs but they seemed to really be living the life out there in farm country.

We stopped for dinner at a place in Santaquin, the Family Tree. They serve a scone as big as your lap. As big as a prize winning sea bass. But the best part was this earnest gentleman.

Live entertainment provided by this country-western singer. Just him and a karaoke machine and hundreds of karaoke disks. He'd take requests but could never find the CD the song was on. He was apologetic though. But here's the great part: we were the only people in the restaurant. We got our own private little bizarro show.

I hope it doesn't sound like I'm making fun of this guy, 'cause I really admired his sincerity. Also I'm making fun of him a little bit. But still.

The rest of the night we just drove around while I tried to find the Hare Krishna temple (unsuccessful) and tried to find a movie theatre (unsuccessful). Fun night! And always good to see my dear friend Joy. The end.

Halloween or something

2009-10-31T18:01:00.003-06:00

I love Halloween. I'm not gonna lie. Seems like there should be some sort of Halloween post here right? Nope. I got nothing. This is a disturbing trend that's been going on with me for sometime. My creativity has run dry. It started with message board posts and blog comments. Suddenly All I had to say was "good one" and "nice." Then my blog output started going down. I stopped carrying my camera everywhere, and I don't really make witty comments anymore. And I've forgotten how to do most of my best impressions. I have nothing left. I'm as bland as... as... uh, bland as... see I don't know. That's the problem! Did I suffer brain damage somehow? What's happened to stamp out my creativity and crush my spirit? I have a few theories actually. But I'm not going to list them.

I'm trying this jazz out. NaNoWriMo. It's going to be quite a challenge. But hopefully it will re-open the neural pathways that have been shut down for a while. Can I average over 1600 words a day? Where will I find time for that? I don't know, but it will be fun to see. Or it won't. Bah. Wish me luck.

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

cheers

2009-10-26T23:32:00.002-06:00

Look. I'm going to start speaking with a British accent, okay? It's not weird, but I need you to go with it. It's not weird. I haven't decided which accent to use yet because apparently there are lots of them. But when I do, if you know me in real life, just pretend that I've sounded like that all along. It's not weird.

No, I'm not any kind of Anglophile at all. I'm quite happy calling chips chips and fries fries. Don't care for soccer at all. You ever seen this guy Russel Brand? He sucks. I guess he's outrageous or something and has the Brits all a twoggin' (that's a British term) but he's not funny. And the Arctic Monkey's are less good of a band than the Strokes. It's just true. Accept it.

But something has to give. I'm slumping here. I go to bed every night, and that's one more bedtime closer to the final curtain. I need a change and this is the easiest and most effective change I can make. Having an American accent hasn't gotten me anywhere. I can't really afford to move away and I don't want to buy new clothes. Listen, you won't even notice after a while. You'll just get used to it. It's not weird.

I really feel like this is the best move for me at this time. Picture it. Exact same me, but British. Here, examine this scenario.

Me, now: "Hey wanna go get a Gyro?"

You: "No."

Me, British: "Fahncy a jie-ro?"

You: "Oh yes let's!"

It's just that simple. Okay fine, this is all about chicks. I mean, birds. I mean, buhds. The new accent is going to make me 19% more attractive and interesting. This isn't a desperation move, it's just good business sense. My annoyances will become quirks. My rudeness will met with giggles. My lack of talent will be chalked up to you not getting my avant garde ways. Just trust me on this one. It's not weird.

random pictures free from the burden of explanation and context

2009-10-11T20:58:00.007-06:00

sing me scottish emo

2009-09-29T23:22:00.005-06:00

A couple weeks ago three Scottish bands you've never heard of came into town and put on what is probably the best show I've ever seen. And all for ten bucks.

These kids. I like these kids. We Were Promised Jetpacks. This song of their's is my favorite song of 2009 so far. Listen to the urgency!

It's a good song maybe to sing really loud to in your car, but only at night because singing in your car is something that only dorks do.

It was a funny show because I ran into dozens of people that I knew and even though it was at the Noise Hole there weren't really any scenesters there. Mostly normal folk and these two really weird dancing guys that I wanted to savagely mock but then realized that they were having the time of their lives and am I really so jaded as to savagely mock such sincerity and enthusiasm? Also it was too dark to get a good picture of their goofy dance moves.

The Twilight Sad, one of the most apt band names you'll find (because all they're songs are about how sad they are that the movie version of Twilight wasn't better).

No but really they're sound is BIG. A real vortex of noise with a melody hidden in the chaos. I like their new record because the drums sound so good, and they sounded just as good live thanks to the Animal-like drummer.

I was going to post the video for their great new single "I Became a Prostitute" but the video has ass and nipple in it and though I'm going to watch it again I'm not going to post it, 'cause you know gotta keep up appearances.

The headliner was Frightened Rabbit. Like the previous two bands, they brought it and brought it hard. Their number "The Twist" is my favorite song of this year that came out last year. I'd post that song but there's only live versions on youtube.

Here they are finishing up the set. Bad composition and camera work on my part but I just like the frantic strumming and the drums.

meanwhile...

2009-09-20T17:58:00.002-06:00

Hey! Over at one of my other blogs I've finally gotten around to my recap of San Diego Comic-Con 2009. I put it there instead of here because there's a lot of comic-centric stuff that maybe you don't understand or care about. But maybe you should just go read it anyway?

CLICK

Here's a preview:

Well here we are! It's almost two months after the fact but it's finally time to recap SDCC09, my second journey into the Omerta Sea of Humanity crammed uncomfortably into the San Diego Convention Center, the exhibit hall strained to the breaking point like the laces on a steampunker's corset...

Once again:

CLICK CLICK CLICK

TK

2009-09-07T23:56:00.006-06:00

boats

2009-09-07T01:24:00.003-06:00

They say the two best days of a man's life are the day he buys his boat, and the day he sells his boat. That's why I go through 182 boats a year.

three stars!

2009-08-18T23:31:00.003-06:00

While we impatiently wait for what is sure to be another epic post about my trip to Cosmic Con, enjoy this examination of the uncanny resemblance between me and various Top Chef judges.

Seattle Part 3: lots of pictures of water but even more pictures of me

2009-08-07T00:39:00.013-06:00

From now on whenever I'm Seattle I will only take my breakfast here.

Why? Because look at this french toast that's why.

IT IS SO GOOD! The french toast that is. Probably the 7th best thing I've ever eaten. And the hash browns make all other hash browns look like nothing more than shredded fried potatoes. The 5 Spot had a Cannery Row theme when I was there, but I guess the theme rotates. I have three copies of Cannery Row but I've never read it.

The day before was the Twin Peaks tour, but I also really wanted to see where they filmed the logo for Frasier and Nathaniel was happy to oblige.

Oh look here's a candid photo of me that I didn't even know was being taken.

I think Nathaniel is trying something funny there in the background...

At this point our gang split up and Leesaland went to visit family while Nathaniel, his ladyfriend Julie and I decided to make an amphibious crossing.

While on the ferry someone took another totally unposed picture of me where I wasn't even trying to look cool.

We crossed through some woods on our way to Port Townsend and its state park, Fort Worden.

Prior to 1890, if you wanted to invade the Pacific Northwest via Puget Sound this was THE place to do it. Unfortunately for you the US Gov't realized that and built a bunch of cannon forts to thwart your fiendish plan.

Fort Worden housed some massive guns that required fifty-six men just to load. Read this, it's like you were there!

Magneto Lever! Our enemies didn't stand a chance with Magneto on our side.

They don't really take the "historic" part of this historic place very seriously and it's basically just a big dangerous urine-soaked playground.

Lots of narrow tunnels and ominous stairways. Where does this lead? What awaits me in that blinding white light? Is my judgment at hand?

Oh, no it's just Nathaniel and Julie!

Nice view from up top. Probably worse places for a soldier to have been stationed. Although for all I know those woods are crawling with Bigfoots.

It's just not an adventure with Nathaniel without a picture of him peaking out of something.

The fort was overrun with a youth group having a marshmallow fight with marshmallow guns. The charisma-free leaders of the group were loudly warning the kids to not shoot civilians with the mallows but that didn't stop some girl from blasting me in the crotch. Luckily it didn't hurt because it was just a marshmallow and also I always wear a protective cup.

Oh hello, I didn't see you there, with the camera.

That parking lot there was full of campers and no matter where you went there was a radio playing "Freebird."

My favorite part of Fort Worden was the graffiti. I'm not sure who my audience is so I'll go ahead and warn that there is blue language afoot.

This poor Darius guy. Not only does he have a small/missing penis but no one can even agree on the spelling of his name.

Not all the graffiti was negative though. This one was downright uplifting.

The chambers in the Fort were really echoey which was great for singing Stone Temple Pilots at the top of my lungs.

This picture has nothing to do with the above statement.

This picture is the opposite of a picture you've already seen. Can you guess which picture?

So that's a lighthouse. I've seen a lot of lighthouses, now that I think back. You know the movie Pete's Dragon? That's about a lighthouse right? That movie scares the shit out of me.

Just looking at the sound, casually, the way I normally stand when I look at things.

This seagull knows more than he's letting on.

Fat Smitty's, home of the Fat Smitty Burger. A place that asks, "Hey, why don't you carve a face into that wooden object?" You should click on this picture to embiggify it and see all the crazy wooden stuff.

The Smitty clan is patriotic, as evidenced by this eag.

And this wacky hat.

And all these pictures of George Washington.

And this stuff.

And that salmon. I call this picture the Smittysburg Address.

The Smittysburg Address! I just thought of that. I'm really proud of it.

This was a cool spot along the sound. Really pretty and wavy there. The tide was high but I was holdin' on.

I don't remember the name of this city but it's home to a bikini coffee stand and also a submarine club. Whoever was piloting this one really messed up on the surfacing.

Probably the same guy that parked this plane.

Oh wait, this is where they filmed the comedy classic Down Periscope!

(I wonder if I can work in any more Frasier references...)

Ferry ride back to the city. I wandered the deck of the ship and had a brief but memorable romance with a girl in a red sweater. Also I saw Mt. Ranier. It's floating, right?

Sun's settin'.

It was the 4th of July and we were all very non-committal over whether or not to watch fireworks. I really like fireworks but I didn't remember until it was too late so I was like "eh whatever."

There was a big crowd of people in this park facing the Space Needle. We figured they must know something that we didn't re: firework views.

This reminds me of an ink blot test.

It turns out the people in the park didn't know anything. Probably one jerk just sat down and more and more people came by and saw that one jerk and then sat down themselves and the whole thing just snowballed. If it was a hundred years earlier we probably would have founded a city.

The fireworks started and they were obscured by trees, so the whole crowd of people got up and ran toward the trees. But the thing is, the view actually got worse the closer you were to the trees, because of uh, geometry. No one seemed to understand that.

Happy Independence Day! Okay we're done with Seattle. Thanks for letting me crash at your pad Nathaniel! Also thanks for sending me the video of bears playing hockey.

Seattle part 2: a fish in the percolator

2009-07-29T01:18:00.008-06:00

So here's the problem with the driving all night plan. We get to Seattle at 730 in the AM, then sleep til mid-afternoon, then spend the rest of the weekend all sorts of groggy. Had we stopped for the night in Boise we would have arrived about the same time we were re-waking up, but instead been refreshed from a good night's sleep. Sometimes it pays to think things through, I guess.

There was really only one thing I wanted to accomplish on this trip, and that was to see where Pearl Jam went to high school.

All down hill from here.

Does this look appetizing or gross? Not the food itself, just the picture. I like taking close-up pictures of my food okay?

Well just so you know it was good. So good I had two plates worth.

This hotel is fireproof. These days we're so concerned about wi-fi and thread counts that we've forgotten that fireproof was once a luxury.

Nathaniel is a skilled tour guide and he took us down to North Bend/Schcenectity to see some of the sites that made up the fictional town of Twin Peaks.

I watched Twin Peaks when it was first on the air. I was 10 years old. I really liked it but maybe I didn't quite get it? I'd like to think I did. I was a smart little guy. I watched it again recently when the fancy gold box DVD came out, one episode per night for about two straight weeks. Heckuva show.

Here's the Great Northern Hotel. Pretty remarkable view regardless of any idiot-box connections.

Ronette Polaski's bridge. (right now people that have never seen Twin Peaks are tuning out)

The train tracks have been replaced with a bike path, and the tragic zombie-woman has been replaced with a fat blogger.

Very serene place, especially in that pre-sunset time.

This was not easy to find, but thanks to modern marvels we tracked down the Packard Saw Mill -

- and the sheriff's office.

The saw mill is long abandoned and would have made for some great adventuring but it was almost dark and there were too many no trespassing signs. Actually the no trespassing signs weren't as bothersome as the black mid-'80s Cadillac that stood sentry. I didn't want to run into the guy that belonged to that car. It might have been Bob.

The Double-R diner. We got there past closing but I guess it burned down a few years ago and didn't look the same inside anyway. Could have learned a thing or two from the fireproof hotel.

I don't think this was in Twin Peaks, but I like the way it looks nonethesame.

Back to Seattle!
We went to Beth's Cafe, which promotes my third favorite sin.

It was full of Zombies. Earlier in the night there was a zombie gathering that set the record for most ~~idiots~~ funlovers gathering together and acting like zombies.

Beth's walls are covered in cren drawings commemorating those that have passed before. This was mighty clever.

You see, it's play on the painting that says "ceci n'est pas une pipe," but instead of a Pipe it's R.E.M singer Michael Stipe! Jajajajajaja!

Beth's specialty is a 12 pound omelette or something. I didn't try it. I got the omelette burger instead.

After supping Nathaniel was nice enough to take me around to see some of his favorite neon! What a great day.

Wooosh!

Seattle 1: We Rode Across That Bridge All Night

2009-07-21T23:41:00.006-06:00

It's a story of the road, of sound and light, angels and demons. A story of pavement under treads and dirt under fingernails. A story of empty hearts and full bellies. It begins here, and will end there.

Remember when me and some of my entourage went to the desert? So this fella Nathaniel was there, and he lives up in Seattle. Lee and Lisa had a plan to visit him over 4th of July weekend and in the week leading up to that the group of travelers went through several iterations, sometimes including me, sometimes not including me, whatever, this is boring. Anyway at the last possible minute I decided to go, so me and Leesaland packed into the scion and headed North.

We left at 4:00pm on a Thursday afternoon in what is now regarded as a tremendously flawed plan. From Salt Lake to Farmington we made great time, but then ran into the usual Davis county traffic.

The first stop came a couple hours later at a Flying J in... some... place. We spent too much time there on account of it was all weird. Like how they had this uplifting angelic display -

- next to the collection of skulls and dragons.

There was also a ballcap that declared the wearer to have a "License to Chill" and wore a built-in bottle opener, and some weird dolls that I'm pretty sure were racist. Or maybe I'm racist for thinking it's racist? In any event I'm not posting a picture because I don't want to support that sort of thing.

The very bottom part of Idaho was sunny and clear until things took a harsh turn.

We hit one of the hardest rainstorms I've ever been in outside of Twin Falls. Luckily I'm good at driving through storms on road trips.

Into Twin Falls for supper. It's about 9pm. Hoping to make Seattle by 4am but we're not even close to halfway there. Uh-oh.

The Twin Fall Arctic Circle is really peacocking. They invented fry sauce you know.

We didn't eat there though, preferring something more local.

This place was good. Probably the best place I've ever eaten in Twin Falls. Way better than the Thanksgiving meal I ate at the Quality Inn a few years ago.

Ah, pie. Pie is good right? All the standards are there.

Sour Cream Raisin??? That sounds awful.

Lisa: "Excuse me, is the Sour Cream Raisin pie any good?"

Waitress: "No, not really."

Totally bummed that I missed this:

Taking pictures without looking, with interesting results.

I like this one a lot. Well, I like the idea of it.

A good way to stay awake is to realize you are out of gas and have no idea where you are with nothing but a black horizon ahead of you. Luckily we found a weirdo truck stop outside Boise. Great wardrobe options there.

From Boise to Seattle nothing really happened. Except that about eight hours passed. Finally in Seattle at 7:30am! Total miles:

Nathaniel lives in an idyllic house on an idyllic street. It seems really nice but I guess it's across the street from a meth park.

Stay tuned for more!

where have i been?

2009-07-10T01:42:00.009-06:00

Alright, Summer of 2009 has not been kind to the ol' blog. My lack of updates has been some combination of being too busy, not having enough energy, and just being too splenetic to care about this anymore. But I'm still very much in the game and hoping to get back in business. So! We need to play catch up. Last weekend this happened:

Instead of writing about that, I will write about other stuff. Like here's a crane I made. I'm really good at making cranes. Around the local crane scene they call me The Natural.

Somewhere along the line my brother turned into this. I don't know what happened. One day as a prank I switched his 1998 NBA Finals DVD with a Cure CD and next thing I knew...

This is Cash making a "Bryton Face." So... that's what I look like to Cash.

I went to a soccer game for a work outing. Nice stadium we have ourselves here.

My favorite part was the churros. That's usually my favorite part of anything.

After the match American Idol finalist and Murray resident David Archuletta sang and the teenyboppers clapped their hands with delight.

He seems like a nice kid. When he was in the running for America's Idol he was the talk of the town around Murray.

But things took a harsh turn as soon as he lost.

June 6 was the 45th Anniversary of D-Day, so I watched Band of Brothers again.

Found some haunted cereal over at Mattsby's house.

And a rather rude and assumptive message on the bathroom wall at Dee's.

Hey look! Some leaves!

On a rare sunny Saturday I visited a Temple of the Lord an an exploratory journey. No one ever told me about the oxen.

Then I visited this Temple of County Government. Sharp-eyed readers will notice that this picture is almost identical to one I posted last year round this time.

Alright. Next time Seattle maybe. Unless I don't feel like it.

Yakima

2009-07-06T23:10:00.002-06:00

If Yakima is the Palm Springs of Washington, then I'm the Bob Hope of I-90 East. The air looked hot, as if everything was filtered through a brown lens speckled with sand. A flashing LED billboard boasted 97 degrees. The off-ramp 7-11 was a hub of activity on that Sunday afternoon, and every vagabond face bore the hard scowl of a scarred soul.

A girl in a tartan bikini held open the door for me. She was looking good but it was her companion that caught my eye, a humongoid in bib overalls with a cotton-white poof of hair. Mere blips on my life's radar, nothing more than a throw away sentence on a joke blog, and yet they were coming from somewhere, and going somewhere, and are indeed somewhere right now. They have existed and continue to exist with little regard for what I may think or say of them or any notion that our respective lifelong journeys intersected at that point of time and space.

The inside of a 7-11 is a security blanket. The breeze of an overzealous swamp cooler, the smell of hot coffee and spilt Slurpee. I'm eight years old again, hoping for an ice cold bottle of Squirt, a pack of Cheetos, and a GI Joe comic to sustain me through a family road trip.

I stray at the newspaper rack and the beer cooler, the only two areas of a 7-11 that offer any variance from state to state. No ice cold bottle of Squirt for me today. I have leagues of pavement yet ahead of me and coffee is the only thing on the menu today. The Sev has a new offering, an iced coffee, one of my much-publicized vices. 99 cents for a limited time. I like coffee flavored coffee but vanilla cream will have to do. It tastes exactly as good as 99 cent 7-11 iced coffee should taste.

The wine rack offers a Sonoma vintage exclusive to 7-11 stores. It's called Pink Truck. I didn't buy any but I bet it tastes exactly as good as 7-11 zinfandel should taste.

Scratch-off lottery tickets encased in glass underneath the counter. "Oh, and five dollars worth of those," I say as a diminutive man with prison tattoos and revenge on his mind muscles his way through the door.

I look back to the clerk. She's too young and pretty to be working at a 7-11 in the Palm Springs of Washington. She's looking at me shyly but expectantly, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. "Uh... doesn't matter, just whatever." I guess some people have preferred brands of scratch off lottery tickets. She rips five different cardboard tickets off the rolls and rings them up. As I gather them she looks footward and mumbles "I hope I picked you some winners." She looks back to me with almost half of a smile. "I'm sure you did," I say and in my head my teeth sparkle.

I haven't scratched them yet, maybe I never will. Maybe I'll dirty my thumbnail while stuck in a traffic jam. Maybe they'll sit forgotten in the glove box for the next year and a half. Maybe the waxy scratch-off will melt in the July heat. Or maybe it's just better to hope you've picked winners than know that you haven't.