I was talking with Wheelchair Cousin today about what we would do if we won the $1.5 billion Powerball jackpot. I am going to travel the world for a year, that is for sure. But after that? I suppose I could busy myself with projects and what not, but really I’m at a loss as to what to do for the rest of my years. Maybe try to start a serious journalism outlet here in Los Angeles? Start a record label? Put a hit out on a couple of people? Go on a date?

The possibilities are endless, and I’m too tired right now to think about such things. Woke up and started my laundry straight away, tried to hustle The Grandmother into the bathroom to do her bath, go visit Wheelchair Cousin, get The Grandmother all situated after her bath. Tomorrow we go to her primary care doctor. I’m sure I’ll get some rest sometime soon.

On February 1, 2011, I was in Downtown LA next to Staples Center hearing people trying to sell the media and LA on this football stadium called Farmers Field. An executive from Farmers Insurance sat next to me during the press conference trying to pump up my enthusiasm in the NFL coming back to LA.

“Until I see a shovel, I won’t believe it,” I told her. I then proceeded to list the different sites we had seen come and go by that point. I pointed out the Seattle Seahawks already had their stuff in moving trucks back in 1996 until they pulled back at the last moment.

Besides, fuck it. No tv blackouts. No stadium traffic jams. No extorting taxpayer money. I was fine with the NFL staying away.

But here we are. The LA Rams are back, and what is this emotion I’m feeling? Could it actually be a glint of happiness? Why, yes it is!

As with everything else NFL related, I’m torn. Sure I’m happy to have a team — I suppose I could be a Rams fan. Maybe. But I feel bad for the folks in Inglewood who now are subject to the extortion by the NFL billionaires. I feel bad that there is no easy mass transit solution to get to the proposed stadium in Inglewood.

Nevertheless, the Rams and the NFL are back. Let’s just hope they stay in the LA colors and not the ones below that Georgia Frontiere changed to when they went to St. Louis.

Also, I have to say I was right. There was no way Farmers Field or Ed Roski’s plan out in the City of Industry was ever going to work. They didn’t. Although I believe I still have a PowerPoint presentation by the Roski group on a thumb drive somewhere hiding in my desk.

Last night I was helping The Grandmother from the bathroom, and I didn’t want her to notice the stupid tears in my eyes. Yesterday was a bad day, and she was in quite a bit of pain. So that was good — I wouldn’t have to tell her that I was broken up by a singer dying.

I would have had to explain it to her that way because she wouldn’t understand who David Bowie is, what he means for culture, the barriers he broke and all that. Hell, I didn’t expect to be this broken up about it. I never met him, and while I loved his music I never was a crazed fan like I was with Nirvana and Nine Inch Nails.

But there I was tearing up last night as KCRW was playing Ziggy Stardust in its entirety. And today at every mention of his name, the tears would start up again.

I don’t have a favorite Bowie song. Life on Mars. Space Oddity. Suffragette City. 5 Years. Rock n Roll Suicide. Heroes. Rebel Rebel. But I chose to highlight “I’m Deranged” here because not a lot of people have done so. Released on 1995’s Outside, it was played in the credits of Lost Highway. It was when David Bowie flirted with NIN, and it the David Bowie era that I am closest to since I lived through it.

I never imagined he would ever die. But here it is, I suppose.

One thing I hate explaining to people is that I care for my grandmother full time. I don’t have another job. I don’t go to school. My whole existence is trying to make The Grandmother as comfortable as possible. I don’t need THAT face — you know, that face filled with pity and relief that one doesn’t have to do to the same thing. Over the last several weeks, that’s been one thing I’ve had to repeat over and over again. Maybe I’ll win this Powerball jackpot and not have to deal with it anymore.

The last couple days have been rainy. Here in the Pedro we didn’t get hit too hard, only about 1.25 inches of rain. Although last night around 11 we got a big thunderstorm pass through here. One jolt of thunder was so big it set off car alarms and scared the Grandmother half to death. Stupid thunder doing only half the job.

So today I went out into the world down by the shore. Funny enough right as I finished and got into my car, it started to rain for a little bit. Talk about an isolated shower.

I finally found some guitar-based sounds that are pretty cool. Here is a darkwave/goth band from England called The Hearse. I could seriously listen to this all day while painting my nails black, ripping up fishnet stockings to turn into a fishnet shirt (oh way, you can buy those as shirts now), dying my hair black, masturbating and playing with my toys. All of this while burning incense and trying to conjure the dark lord. You can preview their album and buy it for a cheeeep €3.33 at Bandcamp:

I also finished The Brothers Karamazov today. Holy motherfucking shit. The only real daunting thing about the book is the length. But it’s fairly simple to follow the story even with the Russian names and nicknames. This is the best book I have ever read, and everyone should read it too.

Because my t-shirt game is so weak, I bought two tees today. One is the Siouxsie tee as seen above. The second is a New Order tee as seen below:

That should improve things a little

We first met on the greatness that was LiveJournal. He was feralboy, and lord knows what the fuck we initially bonded over. Queercore? Zines? General weirdness?

Anyhow, in 2003 or 2004 onto LA he moved. Lots of moshing at MJs, Akbar and Bricktops ensued, lots of drunken nonsense, introducing Tyson and Catherine, watching them get married and spawn. He told me early on that he only planned to be here for only 5 years, but LA does get its hold on you.

Next thing you know 12 years passed and there we were, a day before New Year’s Eve at Damon’s Steakhouse in Glendale. He’s off to tramp it up in other environs. I hate him.

Of course the night ended with Scrabble which I won. Catherine did not appreciate this too much.

I rarely spend my leisure time in Koreatown. Sure I’m there to take The Grandmother to her doctor appointments and what not. But just to hang out? Very rarely. There are many reasons for this:

– Very shitty drivers
– Even shittier roads
– Racism (This probably applies only to me and other hapas.)
– Shitty customer service

But here are the two reasons why all four of the cons above should be nullified:

– Great food
– Great hours

Seriously. Late night food and dessert galore. It makes me wonder why more areas don’t have this. I talk a lot of shit about my peoples, but at least we have that figured out.

So Madd and I went to IOTA Brew Cafe for some food and ANKO for shaved ice.

Well, my vacation will soon be over. Back to bitching about The Grandmother soon!

I have been out and about and all around this last week or so. Here are some b-sides and outtakes that didn’t fit.

Since it’s New Year’s Day, my family and I got together for the traditional 떡국 meal. Korean rice cake ovalettes, meat, seaweed and egg in a broth. Lord knows how to romanize the word, but you get the drift. As for the get-together itself, I grade it an A since we were missing some folks. Boo! But it was still fun!

[Look at me. I’m being all optimistic and happy so far. 빤짝!