Monday, July 16, 2007
So I went to the DPS office today to get my drivers licence renewed. So I'm sitting there playing with my phone and so on, then an old Mexican man sits next to me. He wore a guayabera, greay slacks, and shoes like nurses wear. He begins to chat up the lady sitting next to him, who was a middle aged Hispanic lady. So he's talking to her trying to pick her up and she asks him what he does for a living. He replies that he is a curandero, a Mexican witch doctor. She tells him that she is a nurse. He then begins to tell her, "You know what makes the best medicine? RATTLESNAKES." He then begins to explain to her how he shops up and uses different rattlesnake parts for teas and medicines. Mind you I'm the only other Hispanic in there so I'm the only one understanding their Spanish talk because we were in Clear Lake. So then he tells her that not only are rattlesnakes good for medicine but it is also good for cleansing the spirit. He then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rattlesnakes rattle that he shakes in the woman's face. Now she's getting uncomfortable. He tells her that he used it to expel an evil spirit in a girl somewhere. He explains to the nurse that he eats one rattlesnake heart a week to keep him virile, as if to say "hey baby, don't worry I take viagra." 'sept he's EATING RATTLESNAKE HEARTS! Then he takes out the severed dried head of a rattlesnake with fangs bared and shoves it in her face. Thankfully they called the woman's number, but his was behind her. Then he complained about his high blood pressure.
The moral: If you are going to pick up chicks at the DPS...LEAVE YOUR SEVERED SNAKE BITS AT HOME!
I've been many places in my travels: Europe, the Caribbean, Latin America, even to the Middle East. Let me tell you what all these places have in common...
They all sell pot pipes with Rasta dudes with huge schlongs that you smoke dope out of their dicks.
Not being a pot smoker myself I don't go out of my way to find proper pot smoking accoutrement, but it's hard to escape. Every market, shopping area, mall, or fair sells them. Why even at revered sites like the ruins of Pompeii, the Roman aqueduct in Istanbul, or in a thatched hut in the Dominican Republic you can find the familiar rastaman with cock pot pipe.
I wonder what Rasta related merchandise is even doing in a place like Greece, Malta, or Costa Rica. Surely there are no Rastas there. I know that these are sold to the same dumb American Tourists that also but the "One Tequila, Two Tequila, three tequila FLOOR!" T-shirt with the name of the place or who make a b-line for the local Hard Rock or Hooters. But come on guys! Try varying up your pot pipes. Make it a local thing. Perhaps a Mt. Vesuvius bong or a Lake Titicaca owl pipe would be better.
Maybe I'm wrong though, maybe the rastaman pot pipe with the giant schlong is the thing that unites us all. Maybe it is simply an expression of our shared humanity to want to smoke dope out of a dreadlock wearing blackman's cock...You be the judge.
There is a thing in the universe that some call Kismet or destiny. I tend to think of them as links in the chain of life. For life is not linear like a McDonald's french fry but rather like the waffle fries at Chic-Fil-A, one thing linking to another that leads off in new directions. Such it is between John Travolta and I.
I grew up in Pasadena TX. Pasadena TX's ONLY claim to fame besides smelling like the sulphur of hell is that the 1981 John Travolta epic Urban Cowboy was shot there. This classic piece of cinema is about young Travolta moving from a farm in East Texas to the big city of Pasadena to accept a job as an oil refinery worker. By day he works on the pipelines and climbs the rigs and by night he rides the electric bull and drinks much Lone Star Beer at Gilley's. This film defines Pasadena so perfectly that the image of Travolta beating Debra Winger should be on the Seal of the City of Pasadena.
Now I live in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Bay Ridge's main claim to international fame is that this is where the 1976 Travolta classic Saturday Night Fever takes place. In this film he plays a young gavone whose life has absolutely no meaning or direction except for going to the nightclubs and dancing disco. His friends also have no purpose to their lives and in the end...they still don't.
So where does that leave me? Is the rest of my life going to be dictated by movies by John Travolta? When I have kids is their internal monologue going to be voiced by Bruce Willis like in Look Who's talking? Will I one day have to stave off evil aliens from taking over the world and enslaving us all in some cosmic fucked-up badly acted Hubbardian future like in Battlefied Earth? I fucking hope not.
I'm just glad my life is fuller than either Tony Manero's or Bud's life. So now I'm going to go home and watch Full House with my cat.
We have HBO here in New York as a result of a special plan for our Internet and digital phone. So when Alien Vs. Predator came on I thought, "I was going to smash my testicles with a hammer today...but instead I'll watch Alien Vs. Predator". And I'm glad I did.
Alien Vs Predator is a love story, wrapped in a buddy picture, wrapped in a cautionary tale about the dangers of smoking.
Once upon a time there is this black girl that likes to go climbing on ice and glaciers and shit. So this billionaire's satellites sees a hidden underground pyramid in Antarctica. This is near those Marching Penguins. There was some in the movie. Who is those penguins agents?
So, the billionaire is dying from lung cancer (smoking message) and he wants to uncover the pyramid. So he assembles a crack team including a hot Italian archaeologist, the Scottish guy that played Spud in Trainspotting and a chick that looks like Geoffrey Muller. So then the billionaire says, "hey, Black girl that likes to climb on ice and glaciers and shit. lead my team". So she does. She is gruff and no nonsense because if you fuck around with ice...that shit WILL KILL YOU!
So when they get there someone has already dug a tunnel to the bottom of the pyramid. who would do such a thing? Why the Predators! Yes, those rasta-squids are back, and ready for fun. What you soon find out is that the pyramid is from the founding civilization on Earth. They know this because the hieroglyphs are in ancient Egyptian, Cambodian, and Aztec. Never mind that these civilizations arose at three different times over a period of 6000 years...but whatever. It seems that these ancient cambodegyptoaztecs used to worship the Predators. The predators like to hunt things, and what better to hunt than the aliens from Alien. So they built this pyramid as a hunting preserve for killing aliens. So the chest bursting, face hugging, acid bleeding fun begins. The Pyramid activates and makes friggin aliens by unfreezing a queen or whatever. Then they kill alot of people.
The black girl who likes to climb ice and glaciers and shit then team up with the Predator to kill lots of aliens, which they do. This is the buddy picture part. At the end the kill the queen and the predator gives his life to save the girl and she receives his hunting stick by his alien tribe thing. Then at the end the dead predator is on the ship and "DUM DUM DUM!" an alien bursts from his chest! Oh NO!
I tell you no movie more captured the Zeitgeist of our times more than Alien Vs. Predator. It taught me to love again...and that there is still hope. If a rasta-squid predator and a black girl that climbs ice and glaciers and stuff can get together, set aside their differences and get together to stop a gang of aliens...why can't we all learn from this. The Predator could teach us all something.
Most people, at least in the west, think of time as being linear like a Mcdonald's french fry. There is the past, the present, and the future and one naturally follows the other. This assumes that there is a definite beginning and a definite end and it is progressing to that end. Each cause leads to an effect in a neverending chain of reality that can easily be traced back.
In the East, they see things as being more like an onion ring. A circle. The past present and future are cyclical. What was will be again and the future is already written. That's why they believe in reincarnation. What was here is still here and will be here again.
My theory is that time and our reality is like a waffle fry, like from Chic-fil-A. See every moment of every day for all time not only can lead off in a different tangent but does. All possible realities exist simultaneously. I choose to go to the bathroom before I left my field trip today and this avoided my being stuck in a subway station, I would have been at had i not stopped, when the subway station was shut down for a possible terrorist incident today. But I WAS stuck there, in the string of time where I chose not to go to the bathroom. Both that reality and the one I experienced exist whatever I choose. The reality we are aware of is only the rung of the waffle fry we are on at any given moment. However every tangent is still there, existing on some level. jutting out in a never ending web pattern that contains all possible realities and all possible choices laying out for eternity. It is only the choices we make and circumstances that determine where we are. All those other versions of ourselves exist though we are unaware of them. This interconnected web of reality makes up the fabric of our lives.
We have free will, and it is our great gift. God will not force our hands. We choose every moment, and we just then turn down that rung. We could just have easily gone another way. Every moment that followed would grow out of this new turn. It's like a choose your own adventure book that never ends.
The Feld-dog, you say? Yes I do. In the battle of the Coreys, he makes the Corey Haim (the Haim-bone) look like a talentless assfaced spaz. Feldman's acting technique is so unique...he goes deeper into his emotional memory than any actor I know.
For those of you who have never studied the Stanislavsky method of acting, emotional memory is using a deep psychological explorations of the senses and emotions you feel in real life to then draw upon those on the stage or for the screen.
If Feldman was perhaps needing to feel sad for a scene, let's say, He could use his sense memory about running out of coke while snorting it off a whore's ass with Scott Baio in 1989. That made him sad. After all there are few things sadder than a whore's ass devoid of any cocaine. It is like a smooth peach wasteland of broken dreams. He might think of that and BAM! ready to turn on the water works.
What is the best of Feld? Is it his masterful turn as Mouth in the Goonies? Or perhaps Stand by Me? Was it Licence to drive? NO. Haim only holds him back. Same with Dream a little dream I and II. No, I would have to say the greatest moment for Corey Feldman would have to be Bikini Bandits go to Hell. In this film, to call it a movie is to sully it, is about a group of Bikini clad bank robbers who die after they fall off a cliff. When they go to hell they try to escape and try to get to heaven. That is where Feldman takes his turn as the Angel Gabriel. It is well trod territory for fiction (see Dante's the Inferno or Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey) but this time it makes me happier than a fat man standing open mouthed under a maple syrup truck's exit valve. If there is a God, he would most certainly put the Feld-dog in charge of his choirs of seraphim. Amazing.
You can see The Feld off Broadway in Fatal Attraction the Greek tragedy. He plays Michael Douglas. I for one hope they give out Kleenex...I may cry.