After Haircut

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Oops I Did It Again

Yeah I do this unexpectedly from time to time. When I woke up this morning I looked like this:

Now I look like this:

While going to Death Valley last Saturday, I was annoyed by how much of my fucking hair was all around my car. It was fucking everywhere. That’s when I started thinking about getting my haircut. On Thursday I decided that it had to be done. I made the appointment on Friday and voila!

That’s it. That’s about as much excitement as I can withstand for one week.

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Sadie I Love It

I saw that Death Valley had an ancient lake reappear due to the recent deluges the desert has received thanks to the remnants of Hurricane Hillary last year and the couple of atmospheric rivers. I decided pretty quickly that I wanted to see this ancient Lake Manly before it evaporated. Fortunately Tyler and Lauren had no plans on Saturday, and I managed to convince them to come along with me.

Death Valley is already a surreal place, especially when you are down in Badwater Basin. In the lowest place in North America, you are usually surrounded by bright white salt flats that reflect the unforgiving sun. I decided to start the journey up in the hills at Dante’s Point (elev. 5,575 ft.) which overlooks Badwater (elev. -282 ft.) Despite knowing the lake exists, it still took our breaths away once we saw the first glimpse of the view.

Badwater Basin view from Dante's Peak
Dante’s View overlook Badwater Basin and the resurgent Lake Manly

If you look close enough at the picture above, you can see cars lining the road that is right on the edge of the water. Of course only this view would not do, so we got up close and personal to the water.

People walking into Lake Manly from Badwater Basin.
People walking into Lake Manly from Badwater Basin.

First, no, I did not go into the water. There was no way I wanted to step into what amounted to a communal pedicure tub. But seeing the difference between this and what it looks like dry…

Badwater Basin
Me at Badwater Basin in October 2021 during dryer times.

Hm. My hair was also long the last time I was there.

It is said that in a few weeks the lake will be too shallow to kayak or paddleboard on it and that it will completely disappear by summer. I just had to see what they’re calling a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. But, to be honest, with the way our climate is changing I have my doubts about the rarity of this.

graffiti-towers

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The New Symbol of LA

“Graffiti Tower” in DTLA. Picture courtesy NBC News.

Tall unfinished luxury housing towers right next to Crypto Arena. Chinese developer went bankrupt in 2019 and abandoned the site. It sat dormant until taggers fucking finally jumped the fences and started to tag it floor by floor a month or so ago. After all the tagging and Youtubers base-jumping off the building, it’s now become a “public safety issue” to officials. AND SOMETHING MUST BE DONE ABOUT IT.

Let’s not talk about how the project probably should never have been given a green light in the first place, for all the talk about building affordable housing that this was a luxury project, that no one is buying/leasing any of the other luxury apartments in the “South Park” area of DTLA. I mean shit, I’m not going to spend $4,000 a month to rent a 400 square-foot studio.

The geniuses at city hall have decided to spend millions to “clean up the eyesore” and then bill the developer — you can’t collect on a bankrupt company, so I guess we’re all paying for it. But there is something obvious that is more worrying than some spray paint and daredevils: since this is exposed to the elements, when will it come crashing down?

Apparently it costs too much to demolish the site. It will also cost too much to finish the project. And China ain’t gonna do shit because why would they? And the city won’t use eminent domain since they only do that to poor people. So then what?

I say let the taggers have at it. It’s the real symbol of Los Angeles in the 2020s — a monument of greed and accelerated decay. To be honest, you can see a lot better tagging in Berlin. I just hope it’s still standing come 2028 when there will be Olympic games in Crypto (talk about another monument of greed and bust.) And when it comes down, well, let’s just hope no one is close by it. Just like for years this city’s homeless policy is hoping it goes away. Hope. Isn’t that what Obama ran on in 2008? Where are we on that now?

Jimmy Bramlett 360

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Jimmy Bramlett 360

This was a dream I had last night. 

For some reason I worked at CNN as a producer for Anderson Cooper’s show. We were live on air, and I was running around the periphery doing producer things. At least I suppose I was a producer since I was indeed a CNN employee and what else would I be doing running around the edges of the stage coordinating things? Also it seems the dress codes were never updated from the 50s since we were all wearing suits. 

After the show wrapped up, Anderson was called into a meeting with the higher ups. A bunch of other producers and anchors and I were wondering what was up when one of them said that they were abruptly replacing Anderson. 

I was apoplectic. I can’t begin to describe the rage I felt. It was so visceral that at one point I took off a ring I was wearing and threw it against the conference room window where they were having the meeting. I couldn’t understand why they were sacking Anderson – he’s such a fucking milktoast guy and he brings the ratings. Why change? 

Next thing I know, the meeting ended. I saw Anderson from afar. We locked eyes, and he pointed at me. There was no anger or emotion in it. It was rather matter-of-fact, maybe a slight congratulations if there was any emotion in it.

That confused me. What did any of this have to do with me? A flurry of thoughts raced through my mind. Why? How? Huh? All of this was interrupted when I was called into the conference room. 

The network president told me they were going in a new direction and gave me Anderson’s time slot. What the fuck? Why me? I’m not experienced! I’ve never read off a prompter much less on live television (actually I have in real life, but in this dream I did not.) Would this make me a traitor if I take this job? Oh my god I’m rich! What happens when they catch on I’m a fraud in a couple of months? What kind of show will I do? What do I need to do? How fucking stupid would I be if I didn’t take this?

Of course I was frozen with a shocked expression, nothing coming out of my mouth. They were talking about I don’t know what. My brain just shut down. I just looked at the people in that room trying to make sense of this. 

Once the meeting was done, they escorted me downstairs to another huge conference room where my mom and colleagues  were gathered for a celebration. I finally came to and started making jokes as I normally do, looking under the table and asking if they had the right person. Of course my mom annoyed me when she asked the president about my salary. 

Then I woke up to pee. 

I am confused by this. I don’t watch CNN, I don’t particularly like Anderson Cooper, I have never wanted to be a news reader, don’t want to be famous. I just want to be rich, but not anything like this. So why is my subconscious expressing this nonsense to me? I guess maybe deep down I do want to be a news reader? Whatever. 

Clouds

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Etiquette

I have this stupid fucking song stuck in my head: 

As a kid, I listened to a lot of Korean music from 1989 to 1991 ish, a generation before the polish of the Kpop explosion. So this song translates to “100 Meters Before Meeting That Girl.” Or something like that. It’s so fucking dorky and schmaltzy you can’t help but smile. 

It was a pleasant new year. I spent the last hours of 2023 on my couch finishing Kurt Vonnegut’s Cat’s Cradle, drinking gin and tonics and watching various fireworks displays from different cities. I think London’s was the best. After it struck midnight, I caught some local fireworks on the local broadcast and went to bed five minutes later. 

The traditional 떡국 (dduk gook) with the family was good. It’s remarkable how tame the family has gotten. There really isn’t any more emotional warfare to be had. Here are some reasons:

  1. Because the cousins have been getting married, we have more outsiders. Thus we have to project a good showing. 
  2. The aunts are separated. The eldest aunt was there, Dallas aunt flew back home in the morning, and my mom refuses to come to family events when the eldest aunt is there. So that really brings the temperature down. 
  3. We’re all getting older. We just don’t have it in us to fight anymore. 

I don’t know how accurate these are. Either way, it was a nice gathering. 

Just asking for a friend: what is the etiquette for sex parties/gangbangs/orgies? 

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What I Liked about 2023

This is what I liked about 2023. Yes, despite going through Disney hell and mostly hating it, I did like some things about this year. Here are some unexpected happy moments over the last 364 days:

  • Going to Alaska and seeing the Aurora Borealis – Going into my 27th state, I got lucky and in the two hours that the skies were clear, the aurora showed up! Because of the time change, I’m not sure if it was 2 am or 1 am or whatever, but there it was shimmering and green undulating throughout the skies. I’ll never fucking forget that.
  • Henry Kissinger died – Fuck this war criminal asshole. I really hope he is being fucked with hundreds of cocks lined with razors and barbed wire in every orifice. If anyone wanted proof that god does not exist, the fact that he made it past 100 and was fairly healthy during those years should prove that being a good person makes no fucking difference. Good fucking riddance.
  • Getting a new job – That goes without saying.
  • Seeing Unwound – I saw them twice in February.
  • Being whipped – R flogged me real good right after I got off of Lexapro. I sorta knew I would like it, but I didn’t expect to like it that much. I was hard the whole time.
  • Fine dining in Vegas – For my cousin’s birthday in January, we went to Bazaar Meats and spent over $600 between the two of us for food. That was fucking fantastic. I was not hard the whole time.
Disney

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Friends Don’t Let Friends Work at Disney

On Saturday I saw Poor Things with Brendan and Faith, and it was fucking amazing. Yorgos Lanthimos gets better and better with each film, and this one was so enjoyable. This is Emma Stone’s best performance, bar none. 

There was a bad part of the movie: at the very beginning it showed that Searchlight is the distributor. I instinctively blurted out, “Fuck Disney.” (Disney dropped the “Fox” from Searchlight when they bought Fox.)

Yes, I am bitter. On the very day I got back from my European vacation last year, I was told by my bosses that due to “job realignment” I was getting a 20% pay cut starting at the new year. So because their AP department did a fucked up job with the “accounting consolidation” with Hulu, I got sent off to their Procurement Department. 

Fine. So I started my job search at the beginning of the year. That itself was an up and down saga, but eventually I got my current job which makes me happy. 

But I do hold bitterness to Disney. It turned what was a fine job at Hulu into fucking misery. It’s true that the accounting team at Hulu weren’t a bed of roses either, but the Disney team? I’ll just say that if I tried to act like Disney AP while at Hulu, we would have all been fired. 

Disney gave me nothing but misery. It was miserable working for them, they cut my pay which fucked my finances this year. So now when I see something that is related to Disney, I cringe. 

The saying “Friends don’t let friends work at Disney” exists for a reason.

But do watch Poor Things. It’s real good and should win all the awards.

Bret Easton Ellis - The Shards

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I Need More Perversion

I didn’t read as many books as I wanted to this year. I always have this illusion that I will be that pretentious motherfucker who just reads and reads and reads and will be really fucking insufferable about it. But no. For the most part it was me trying to hide myself from the world while watching stupid Youtube videos. As always. Yup. 

But I did manage to complete two books I had always wanted to finish. 

I was so happy to finish Gogol’s Dead Souls. It was funny, riveting and irritating in all the best ways. The satire was very biting and made me realize that people have always been fucking idiots. Although it didn’t have that goth sensibilities I fantasized about during my adolescence having the same title of a Joy Division album, it was quite good. 

Too bad Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow didn’t leave me as satisfied. While I did enjoy Inherent Vice and Bleeding Edge, for most of its 777 pages GR was absolute torture. I understood what the words meant, but when they were put together in the form of sentences, paragraphs, chapters, all meaning was lost. I was happy that I finished it, but for the most part I did not like it. Maybe I’ll have to reread it? (Yeah, let’s hold off on that idea for a while.)

And I don’t know if reading GR killed my enjoyment of reading because I quit the next two books I tried to read midway: Fuccboi by Sean Thor Conroe and New Millennium Boyz by Alex Kazemi. I found the Fuccboi unbearable and even though I am about five years older than the kids of NMB I didn’t identify with any of the kids. I didn’t even identify with some of the older kids. To be honest, I had borrowed NMB as an ebook from the library and let the loan lapse. Even though I didn’t identify with the kids, I did enjoy it more than I did Fuccboi.

I think I just need a big wasabi palate cleanser to my brain, CTRL+ALT+DELETE, whatever. 

I also listened to my first audiobook: Britney Spears’s memoir The Woman in Me. I did like listening to the book, but don’t get me wrong: listening to an audiobook IS NOT READING. But this is a sad story, and listening to Michelle Williams narrate, especially during the head-shaving era, it was just fucking tragic. It put me back during that period, and I remember thinking that Britney was going punk because she had no other options. And with all of the shit people have been saying over the last few months, I guess people still haven’t learn to leave Britney the fuck alone. (butit’sstillnotreading)

I liked Bret Easton Ellis’s new novel The Shards especially for the nostalgia of 1981 LA, and I didn’t really like Cormac McCarthy’s The Passenger. I now understand The Meaning of Mariah Carey (my birthday twin) and really want to hear her “grunge” album with her vocals. I dipped my toes into the “feminist retelling of Greek mythology” with Costanza Casati’s Clytemnestra which was all right, meh, and fucking loved Ernst Junger’s WWI memoir of the battlefields in Storm of Steel. 

Oh! I almost forgot. I also finally read Georges Bataille’s Story of the Eye! Jesus fucking Christ how subliminally perverse! I need more perversion in my life. (I really think everyone does.)

Looking Towards Home from Debs Park

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I’m Not a Kid, Not Yet an Old Man

Looking Towards Home from Debs Park

I watched Anatomy of a Fall last weekend, and it was marvelous. Both Sandra Huller and the kid Milo Machado Graner were riveting. But the thing that got to me had nothing to do with the movie at all. 

After the movie, I started watching the press that director Justine Triet did all through the film festival season. In Toronto she was asked about the younger generation directors, and she talked about how she worried about the kids having access to funds to make their films. 

Here’s the thing. Justine is a couple of years younger than me, and she has already realized that the new directors coming up are a different generation. That she is not a part of that group.

Me? 

Well, I still think I’m a young’un. Even though my hair is turning white, my bones creak, I only have partial feeling in my left foot, that I need to be on medication to not die, I can’t stay out past 10pm if I even have any desire to go out,  my brain still thinks it’s in its 20s. I mean, I like discovering new music. Like, I liked the new Lana del Rabies album. The new Danny Brown, and his collaboration with JPEGMAFIA. The new Moris Blak. 

But then I realize I do some old man shit. Like I’ve slowly gotten rid of social media. I am not on Instagram anymore, and I have never been on Tik Tok. I still keep up a blog. I try not to perpetually have my phone in front of my face. I don’t listen to Taylor Swift or Beyonce or any of the pop stuff that are a snooze. I just don’t have that sensibility. 

It’s sort of like that Britney song from her movie Crossroads: I’m not a girl, not yet a woman. I’m not a kid, not yet an old man. 

Fuck.

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Horniness and Mountains

I had a dream last week. I was on my honeymoon with R at a hotel in Bratislava, and for some reason we hadn’t consummated the marriage yet. The horniness was consuming me. We were in a jacuzzi, and I ripped my shorts off. “You need to fuck me right now,” I yelled. And I needed that dick in my ass right then and there. My dick was so hard it had grown an extra two inches and dripped like a fountain. Since my dick was right there in front of his face, he started sucking me off. But I needed his dick in my ass. I got my dick out of his mouth, got into the jacuzzi and sat on his lap. That dick needed to be inside of me.

It’s been a long time since I felt that level of horniness. Like even when I was at my horniness right after I got off of Lexapro, it wasn’t that ravenous. Every cell in me needed that dick to penetrate me, to feel that moment of breath-taking pain, that moment when your eyes roll backwards when his dick hits your prostate. Every cell in my body needed it at that point.

What ended up happening is I woke up and took a piss, got back into bed and slept til morning where the daily routine recommenced. It’s odd because I although I don’t feel that level of need, I can remember the feeling of it. And I haven’t decided if it makes me depressed or not.

What I did do yesterday was go along the Backbone Trail in the Santa Monica Mountains by Malibu. It was very pretty and all. And if that wasn’t tiring enough I decided it would be a great time to get my smog check, go to the Korean market and do laundry. I’m tired.

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