Five things I learned over Christmas

1. Five days at home is still too long.
Last year it was two weeks. This year, I thought five days was going to be fine...and nope. Next year, three days, maximum. Why? Because I regress to a 16-year-old when I get home, and I tend to lose all the energy and momentum I have going here, making me waste a couple of days once I get back getting back into the swing of things -- never again.

2. Never fly Alaska Airlines out of LAX.
Ineffecient staff, outdated terminal, chronically delayed flights. Stick with Burbank here.

3. The Portugese David Bowie songs were the best part of The Life Aquatic.
I don't know, maybe Wes Anderson is a taste I've lost, or perhaps the genius of this piece lies in a few more viewings. I remember not liking The Royal Tenenbaums the first couple of times I saw it. But Bill Murray is always great, and I have a hopeless crush on that Owen Wilson.

4. Rain and wind and turbulence does not a pleasant flying experience make.
I'm apprehensive about flying to begin with. I really don't like turbulence. The type we were experiencing tonight was some of the worst I've felt -- not since Boston freshman year of college.

5. Considering what's going on is Asia right now, all these other "concerns" seem so flimsy.

How did I get here?

You are now reading the blog of one cowriter of the story Crossover (if you need/want details on what that is, email me or leave comment).

If you asked me six months ago if I thought I'd be here now, I'd say you were crazy. Funny how life works, huh?

Hey check this out!

The wonderful Simon Young has mentioned me in an article about blogging entitled, appropriately, Logging On To Blogging for the New Zealand Marketing Magazine. He asked me about this stuff back in September, so maybe my blogging habits are not quite the same, but I think it's still pretty damned cool.

A Hobbit at the Habit, or December in Venice

So this bum hand gave me a day off -- nice. It allowed me a day to just rest (since I can't do much) and relax. And boy howdy, have I accomplished that...

Not that nothing exciting happened. I went for a morning cuppa at the neighborhood haunt, Abbot's Habit. In line, I stood behind one Mr. Frodo Baggins, yes Elijah Wood. He's a very slight, fair-skinned, huge-eyed slip of a man -- well, almost more a boy. He was there with two girls in pajamas (I don't know...). I go to the Habit a lot, and he's the first famous guy I've seen there. Incidentally, he's the second Lord of the Rings cast member I've seen around the area. I almost ran into Viggo Mortensen at Rite-Aid back in April.

Anyway, I went back home and went back to bed. It's been interesting to see the body's response to shock. Even though the trauma is relatively minor, there's still adjustments to be made. I mean, not only have I been tired all day, I haven't been hungry (well, up until now). Cooking is going to be interesting with one hand. I'm sure I'll manage. And doing everything with my right hand has caused all my actions to be slow and deliberate. Perhaps that's a good thing.

I watched The Station Agent this afternoon (again). I LOVE this movie. It's about one of my favorite obsessive topics -- relationships and the complicated layers that exist therein. Basically, it's about three lonely people who rather inadvertently come into each others lives and create a close bond, the kind that people long for, and cherish when they find. Bobby Cannavale is my new cinematic crush, and Peter Dinklage is so, so great. Please, if you have not seen this movie, rent it, you will not be sorry.

Afterwards, I decided to walk to the beach and catch the sunset. Southern California is an interesting place to experience winter-time. The weather doesn't really change, it feels strange to listen to Christmas music with palm trees overhead. But the light -- unmistakably December. I walked along the surf, watching the sun go down. After awhile, I felt I needed to sit and give it it's proper reverence. I find it hard to believe that someone can watch a sunset like the one I saw tonight and doubt the existence of God. Wow -- I sat for a long time, as the clouds lingered, turning from yellow to brilliant orange, to pink, to deep red and finally purple. Earthly struggles seem to lessen in significance after witnessing such an event. If God's capable of creating something so brilliant, the issues in my life are easy, I just need to stick with Him.

My tummy's rumbling, gonna see what I can rustle up in the kitchen.

becoming right handed

I sliced my left hand open tonight -- on a sharp edge of plastic on the bathroom sink. It happened so fast, I put my hand down, picked it up, and there was blood all over it. Yikes! I freaked out and ran upstairs to my neighbor Bill's place, where I proceeded to bleed all over his welcome mat and kitchen floor. He's in construction, and knows a thing or two about cuts and wounds. He was pretty impressed with the depth and width of this cut. We held it under cold water, and he covered it with a paper towel and waterproof adhesive tape. I suppose I should have gone to the emergency room (probably still should), but he said that as long as it stopped bleeding when I held it closed, it should be fine. I went to Rite-Aid and bought butterfly bandages, and Bill put them on for me, showing me how to change them for the next day.

I have never seen so much blood pour out of my hand before -- I seriously thought for a moment that I was in real trouble. Thank you, God for keeping the wound from being too deep. I was in shock for a bit, still am, kinda.

So now, I can't do much with my left hand, or at least not well. I can't drive, I can't write, I probably SHOULDN'T even been typing with my left hand, but I'm doing so gimpishly.

getting behind an idea

Yesterday, I was struck by something James L. Brooks said in a New York Times article:

"While you're doing it, it is sort of a lonely kind of feeling, even though you are surrounded by so many people giving beyond the call. That's generally true of movies, there's a sense of urgency, people risking their tail, people working past exhaustion. That's what moviemaking is. It's lonely because you asked all of them to work that hard for this idea you had."

And it's so true. Movies all begin with an idea. A single genesis that evolves and sort of picks up matter along the way. After awhile, it becomes something bigger than itself. It carries on after it's finished being made and starts to live a life of it's own -- those who see it assign their own meaning and significance to it.

And all from one idea. Not always a good idea, either. Getting people to go along with you is difficult, sometimes. They have to be inflamed by the same passion that you have for the idea, they have to be willing to help breathe life into it, to give it a voice. You become like an evangelist, in a way. That's a hard sell -- "here, stop what you're doing, get your stuff, let's go. Oh, by the way, your life is mine, at least for the next few months or however long it takes."

If the film fails, it's not always because the idea was bad. There are a thousand (million) things that can go wrong from point A to point Z, or wherever it ends. But I can't help but think that the creator of the original idea does not feel some sense of guilt for involving all these hardworking individuals for naught. Luckily, there are lessons to be learned and life to be lived all the while, so all is not lost. But regardless, the stakes are high.

January 28th is my last day of work.

I approach this with a mixture of relief and fear.

the sour and the sweet

I watched Cameron Crowe's "Vanilla Sky" again this weekend. What a great movie. I love Cameron's films, because he doesn't write characters, he writes real people, saying real things. The themes of his films are always about the process of learning and living life and love in all it's various forms. What I especially love about "Vanilla Sky" is that it starts out as one thing, and once you get to the end, it's a completely different movie than the one you were expecting. It starts out as this sort of shimmery love story, but then it veers into completely whacky lucid dream territory, and it continually oscillates between the two. The love story is such a comforting and warm place to be, and you get so mad at the story when it goes pyscho again. Cameron writes a lot of truth in his films -- a lot of moments that have me saying "yes! I know exactly how they feel!" And those are the best kinds -- films where people can take away a real human story -- that's the stuff that sticks, that essence. They're very inspiring films, as a watcher and a writer.

I made another musical discovery this weekend, thanks to Chris Douridas of KCRW fame. Check out Ray LaMontagne, if you have not already. He sounds a bit like Ryan Adams, but his lyrics are very hopeful and thoughtful and observant. Good stuff, to be sure.

JCH

I have a friend -- a really good friend -- from college.
His name's Jonathan. I love him.

He really believed in me, with a belief that caused me to think outside of myself and realize some of the things I'm capable of. There have been others since, but he was the first.

He was a broken and beaten spirit when I met him. Searching for someone to understand and stand by him, as much I was looking for someone to understand me.

It wasn't all roses. He instigated and contributed to heaps of debauchery and rebellion for a couple of years. And follow him I would, always knowing I was safe with him, knowing that however crazy it got, things would be okay. And they were.

Things are different now, obviously. We're older and calmer and more at peace with the world -- two battle-weary warriors no longer fighting life, but rather embarking on it.

I haven't seen Jonathan in over two years. He's in Alaska, with his boyfriend recently released from prison. But we're still connected -- emotionally and mentally, and I think about him often, hoping and praying that he's alright.

Half-Way Points

I'm listening to Ryan Adams right now, I'm about half-way through the album.

I just got back from a walk. About half-way through, a man smoking a cigarette followed me for one block, and then stopped. I wasn't scared, though.

Adam came to town today. He was half-way along in his trip from Toronto to Auckland. He had a four-hour layover at LAX, I took a half-day off, and we spent the afternoon in Venice, drinking and eating and talking.

My friend Mike C. came over the other day, and we talked about half-way points, like I had mentioned. It's his theory, one I hadn't considered before, but an interesting one. Mike's a hip-hop DJ who lays down beats for rappers. We were talking about working towards goals, and how daunting they can be. He suggested that instead of looking at where you ultimately want to end up from the vantage of where you are, figure out the half-way point between those two places, and then say to yourself, 'is that a managable goal?' If not, halve that, and ask the same question. Repeat until you have a goal that does not overwhelm you, and proceed to meet said goal.


And now I'm half-way asleep, so I'm going to go.

food and drink

Many of my most interesting social interactions have revolved around food this weekend.

Friday night, Corey and I went and had French dip and beet salad at Philippe's Original, in downtown. Afterward, we went to this AWESOME bistro in the Sunset Junction called Cafe Stella, where I treated him to a couple of Chimay ales, and got a little tipsy on some great red wine.

Saturday morning, I got up and met my friend Emily for bagel and coffee at Abbot's Habit. She and I met when she responded to my Craigslist roommate post. She didn't end up moving in, but we did hit it off really well.

Saturday evening, Mike C. came over and we made turkey curry and watched Fahrenheit 9/11 (he had never seen it) and drank Boddingtons. We talked about "half-way" points (you can ask what that means if you want).

Good stuff, for sure.

You scratch my back...

I been having some very interesting conversations with a couple of different artist friends of mine lately about the nature of collaboration, and what it means from a spiritual perspective -- that collaboration with like-minded and similarly-goaled individuals can be something great. Together, you can create something bigger than you yourself ever could. The opposite is true though, also. If people come together to work towards something (not necessarily) evil, or something self-serving, the collaboration only becomes destructive.

And what is it for me? I think my ultimate goal is to impact others. Not in any particular way, or with any particular message, but simply to inspire people around me, and maybe people I don't even know, to look at truly look at their lives and realize that there's something better to live for, that taping into their resources, and truly being aware of themselves and what's around them will lead to a life so full and enriching that they can't even really believe it. That all sounds so "new age," which I don't mean it to sound...

Holy messed up sleep schedule, Batman!

So, I've settled upon this new, slightly strange sleeping routine as of late...

I'll fall asleep at around 10:30 or 11:00, then sleep soundly until about 2:00. I'll wake up really refreshed, enough to get up and get some work/emailing/writing/whatever done. Then I'll fall asleep again at around 3:30 or 4:00, until it's time to start the day again at 6:00.

Crazy. In all my years of exotic sleep habits, this is a new one -- so far, it's been managable. I'm a little groggy when I have to wake in the morning, and I've realized that the only thing that's made traffic bearable is a hard 8 hours of rest. But, despite that patience tester, everything else seems to be in fine working order.