shrugging off malaise

Very tired, I sank back into the apartment. It doesn't feel like "mine" yet, and I'm not sure it ever will. I looked through jobs online, and in the paper, feeling like I'd raised the bar careerwise and anything I do now that's not teaching abroad will feel like backpedaling. Steve and I rearranged the apartment a bit, watched "The Incredibles" but counldn't finish it as sleep marched in to claim us.

The next day I spent most of the morning job searching, getting discouraged. Why does Ohio have a special Ohio-only certificate that you need to have for the privilege of teaching in Ohio? I set out with backpack slung, to begin the process of dropping off applications at various places. It always feels degrading: writing down a summed-up version of your life with accompanying dates, reasons for leaving, "references"; it's all so prying and cold like you were asked to list the names of all the girls you'd slept with, list your "duties" in the relationship, why it didn't work out, etc.

The weather had finally broken and though I was glad for the drop in temperature, the rain was a bit depressing. That old overcast canvas had thrown itself over the blue with careless abandon, pushing its way bullylike through the meteorological lunchline "My turn, my turn! Me first!" Empty sigh. I went to Meck's and talked up the crew that remained since I left. Apparently Tom had been making many changes since taking over from Chris, one of which is the illegal practice of making people tip him out when he acts as bartender or host. Since he is the employer, none of the tips should go to him, no matter what job title he's applied to himself to save money on a manager. The energy was bad, stagnant. I felt the frustration of the servers to be in that position, and their lack of rocking the boat to save their jobs. Did I really want to put myself into this? I didn't decide, just walked out again, down to Ludlow.

I dropped an app at the Cactus Pear, which had a much better energy, parlayed some of my guanxi through knowing Rick. I traded some Spanish with the manager, which got a smile out of him. And who knows, that smile combined with knowing Rick, may snowball into a position there. I went through the Asian market, just to see some familiar snacks and such, but didn't really find them. I didn't use any Mandarin for fear that the lady spoke Cantonese.

I ran into Shanon on the way down, so we walked together and she asked about China and I asked about her forthcoming baby. We had some coffee in Sitwell's, her treat as I still had the last $100 to break. She told me Habanero was hiring, so on a whim and because I know Matt there (more guanxi) I dropped an app. I walked across the street to the Roanoke, went into my old apartment, wandered each room, sat on the edge of the bathtub for a bit. All the memories of that old place: Bruce, Elise and I having Indian battles on the lawn, drinking Rolling Rock on the porch in summer and the winter times when Bruce and I were so destitute we drank Triple Sec and water (ghetto lemonade), the songs recorded in that place: the four "lino" demos and all the SMRT/heterobot tunes, the after parties I had where everyone was cozily squeezed in, and the many hours of bliss I had in the bathtub with the hookah and Massive Attack on the hi-fi. I felt the urge but couldn't quite cry, surveying the empty walls that used to contain my energy, my belongings, my essence. Some remained, but it was like a bleached photograph, you can tell a smile occured, but it's so obscured and distant you can't share in it anymore.

I walked back up the hill to the apartment, scoured the internet for jobs. Steve got back, and Sara Jett stopped by with stuff for us. She heads to New York on Sunday. We ate at Pomodori's and I had proscuitto and fig pizza, one of my favorites, but this time it didn't garf my funkel. It just was stuff on bread whereas, my body craved fruits and vegetables, a healthy habit picked up from China.

We dropped Steve off, swung by Gabe's to give him some boxes. He offered me his old computer at a bargain price and I told him I accepted, although I'd have to start making money again to pay him. Down the street, some black youths were kicking the shit out of another black youth, all wearing the blank white T-shirts like uniforms. As Ross phoned the police, we saw them take the kid's shoes. Ugliness. We drove by quickly, fearing getting shot, and Sara called the police herself hoping it would speed up the process.

She was visibly upset, having been carjacked before while two police officers were less than a block away eating ice cream at UDF. We tried to lose ourselves in the incredible sunset as we headed down to Ludlow and into the Esquire to see "Me and You and Everyone We Know," a film both quirky and honest, disquietingly funny like something Todd Solondz would have written on pot brownies.

Afterwards, Sara took me to meet Steve at Jacob's. I sang "Allentown," "Killer Queen," and "Things Can Only Get Better," and Steve busted out "Pepper," "Cornflake Girl," and "The Final Cut," the last giving us all chills. I had never heard it before, but the last lines were so solidly fragile and human, it's impossible not to be moved by it. We also decided on a band name: "Not Delicious." We have Dozen to thank for that.

We headed out, watched the rest of "The Incredibles," turned in.

pics from cali....

the culver city ice arena


skating makes heather happy


toast skates on ice with gritted teeth


heather demonstrates her mad ice skating skillz


toast n brian yu nestled in the heart of don antonio's


toast n brian yu redux


todd, liz, and heather


brian yu and amy


heather on the disillusioningly chilly beach


the chilly beach what lies about being warm


industrial afternoon


my darby impression

shed skin mourning

Almost survived the weekend without an altercation with the parents over something poiltical. At breakfast Dad was reading the paper and said something about "...another reason for France to hate us." Mia was sitting right there and as her mind is a hungry sponge right now, I couldn't let it go. I pleaded with him not to generalize an entire country and make ignorant statements with his granddaughter listening. I was perhaps too sensitive considering the anti-Japan propaganda I beat my head against in China. I didn't want to hear it in my own land, from my own blood. I didn't want Mia to have a "loss of respect moment" with her grandfather. I had one with my grandmother mentioning some racist stuff, and it hurt then, still hurts now. I want Mia to honor her grandparents for as long as possible, maintain that respect level for as long as possible.

I've said it before: Republicans are merely liberals who lack the imagination to empathize. They are human, have feelings, but it takes reality smacking them in the head to change their minds. They make blanketed, fiercely ignorant statements about drug addicts, minorities or homosexuals and live in a self-centered way until they find their son or daughter is or is dating one. Why does it take that extreme to turn them around? Why can't they have the imagination to walk in someone else's shoes?

It didn't escalate the way other arguments have gone, and I bowed out explaining I was overly sensitive because of my China experience. The day was too hot and Mom drove me and Mia back early, my cruiser bike in the back, rescued from the dusty shed. I uploaded pictures some more, made plans to eat sushi with L.A. then found out I had been recruited to help Jenn move some furniture. I tried to rearrange the time for earlier so I could do both, but then L.A. ran late and it didn't matter anyway.

We went to Beluga, dined, had champagne, talked about living abroad and the changes it wrought. Since I've gotten back, I've felt a distance like I'm still looking for my ghost on the horizon, a "thousand yard stare" coupled with a desire to cry, and to flee the country again. I don't feel like I have a home space, that I'm "just visiting" anywhere I go, although if there is anything closest to a "home" I feel it's in Moab. L.A. talked me through it, saying that the need to cry had nothing to do with sadness, but rather mourning for the me I used to be, a skin I shed in China, rejoicing a transition that occurred.

She has lived in many different countries from her modeling days, and I'm glad she knows the feeling I'm going through. It makes me feel less insane. We went back to her place where she gave me a ceramic piece she designed for me, a beautiful vase with a metallic glaze, dappled and rippled patterns, very desert-looking. Then we went to Alive One to shoot pool. One game turned into several and suddenly it was half past twelve. I called Amy and Haven, who said they'd be up soon. I was coerced into talking to a girl named Sarah about teaching abroad, then they showed. L.A. was hanging out with other billiard enthusiasts, so we took off to West Chester and crashed.

last images from china...

jackie and toast



toast and lighting dude from the club



heather and jackie



chinglish t-shirt gawkers



teacher, heather and mickey




guy on the ferry in socks reading the paper


sleepy heather on the shuttle



old town shanghai



"I intend to steal a boat!"



curry-eating expats



phoenix, jeni and rhys



spooky toast



llinos hits the bubbly



toast and heather shortly before exhaustion claims them

americana camden-style

Woke earlier than usual, though my dream cycle hasn't been kicking in until after 10am. I must still have some residual China schedule sleepwise. Dad and I went to play golf on what turned out to be possibly the hottest day of the year. We did some driving range stuff, then attempted to do 18 holes, but heat and a blistering set of hands from the rented clubs made us cut it short after 9. I am still not good at golf, but it was fun to do spend some time with the old man.

Afterwards, we went to his cousin's place to swim in his pool. Mia and Mom joined us and Mia relentlessly splashed and thrashed around wherever I went despite my pleadings for her to be mellow. We constructed a monster boat out of a raft and funnoodles. I made a turban out of one, declared myself the Blue Raja.

Some relatives showed and I discovered the one guy who was married and had a kid was the same age as me. He looked much much older. A gravity had apprehended his face, and he had accumulated dad-weight about his middle. Is this what having a 9 to 5 and a family does to you? Is it a certainty? I assume since I'm a little brother that everyone is older than me, but I think I'm a few months older than this guy. What is the deal with all this family-oriented prevalence of late? First my students ask me on a daily basis where my wife is, I have a run-in with my ex-fiancee, I saw a girl I went to high school with pushing a pram, now this guy who is my age with a full station wagon. I can take this onslaught in two ways:
-1. It's a sign that I need to start getting serious about continuing the Willis bloodline before I'm too old to play with them ("Sorry, son. Dad can't play soccer, he's gotta rest in his iron lung a while and finish his will.")
-2. It's a temptation to sell out to normalcy. (Abandon all dreams ye who willingly nails yerself to yon white picket crucifix! Consume! Watch commercials! Belong!)

I don't know which it is just now, but I know something is germinating. I'm reaching a point where I have to decide whether or not I want offspring, and then the answer will be FINAL.

We ate grilled hamburgers and such on the lawn overlooking the lawn, the fence, the pond, the countryside. All very America. Marty, my parents' pug was getting fed table scraps by Mia, and then went to town on a corn cob, husk and all. He spent the rest of the night vomiting it all back up.

I got to talk to Heather, catch up on her life, share the burden of our parallel mindset, the "returned bewildered expat", ready to take off out of the country again after saying the last few months how much we wanted to escape China. I told her about the notion of "just visiting" and how fast a year would go by and not to let other's insecurities overshadow our own accomplishments and plans. Her cell phone battery was dying, so we had to cut it short, but made plans to research the greece and TEFL certificate thing.

Stayed up with Dad watching Chapelle's Show, South Park and Reno911, then crashed.

pics from a show: 2005-07-23, Chalk / Ari Ari @ Crush, Cincinnati

as i mentioned before, last night i saw Chalk and Ari Ari at Crush downtown. after a bit of delay, the show started.

Ari Ari were first. i didn't know much about them, except that jim (from chalk) said they were cool. their instrumentation was guitar/keys/drums, with a girl on vocals. i didn't get to speak to any of them afterwards, so if you want names, i'll leave that research up to you.

their set was sweet. it sounded much like the mp3 on the friction website: serious rocking out, with some nice keys in the mix, providing both bass end and fleshing out the upper registers. good times all around, and a good match for a Chalk show.

Chalk were Chalk.

more serious rocking out, with loads of dirty syths and loud bass guitar, with Dave's awesome vocals and Greg's cool-ass drumming.

not a well-written review, but definitely a positive one. ;)

(and i need to go easy on the blur in those pics...)

photoshop trickiness: the dooce effect

i'm finally getting around to trying something referred to (by at least a couple people) as the dooce effect, wherein you make your digital photos all glowy and stuff.

check it out.

here's a photo of the band Ari Ari, whom i saw play a great set saturday night. first, here's how i would have done it, with just brightness adjustment:

the photo has that "flash" quality to it, which i kind of dislike but can't really avoid.

now, here's the same photo, using the dooce effect:

i like it. it's a bit darker, but it's ok. i'm still getting the hang of it, but i think it's a far better photo now.

what do you think? be honest now. :)

changing a tire can take some time

yikes.

ok, so i got this jeep because the hearse just isn't good enough any more. i knew when i got it that it would need new tires, so when the passenger-rear tire would get low every couple of weeks, i wasn't surprised. i would just fill it up and move on.

friday night, i stopped over at my friend lyndsey's place to hang out for a couple hours. (she caught the episode of Mr. Show with Tool on it, which was lucky for her, i guess. ;) when i went to leave, the passenger-rear tire was FLAT. i mean, no driving it the three blocks to the gas station, this thing was gone. lyndsey drove me home, since it was dark, and i didn't want to fool around with the friggin thing at that point anyway.

saturday morning, i went to brunch with sara, and when i got back, i went over to lyndsey's to change the tire. good times. (not really.)

i don't have a spare tire yet. see, my friend laura, from whom i bought the jeep, had loaned the spare to her boyfriend, and he still had it. i hadn't really gotten around to asking for it, so i was out of luck on that front. luckily, the hearse spare would work enough to get me to michel tires plus, and they'd take it from there.

at first, i tried lyndsey's jack, as i couldn't find mine in the jeep. of course, hers is for a car, not a jeep cherokee, so it didn't lift it up far enough. however, a renewed and more thorough search for my jack revealed that it was under the back seat, so i was back in business.

back in business, that is, until i tried my jeep's lug wrench. apparently, it's not the correct one for those lugs. cripes.

lyndsey's fit, though, so i went to town.

well, i went to town on the thing until i realized that ALL of the lug nuts on that tire were stuck. either they were corroded, or someone got all crazy with an air wrench. or both.

i got some crap from autozone called PB Blaster, which was described to me as "WD40 on crack". i sprayed it on the lugs and waited about 20-30 minutes.

i got lyndsey's lug wrench onto the first lug. after much trying, it finally broke free when i stood on it. finally!

next one, fine. next one, fine. one left: no good. naturally. i stood on it, and even hopped a bit, but to no avail. dammit.

i sprayed more PB Blaster on it, then waited some more.

(by the way, PB Blaster is NASTY! if someone were to capture me and force me to choose between drinking a shot of gasoline or a shot of PB Blaster, i'd choose the gasoline, in a second. seriously.)

it didn't, help, though. still nothing, though i did notice that i'd bent lyndsey's lug wrench a bit, and rounded the corners off the lug.

shit.

i gave up, as by that time michel tires plus had closed.

this morning, after my friend katie from work stopped by to picked up some cds i'd burned for her, i tried again. i'd hoped that the PB Blaster would have worked its magic overnight, but it wasn't enough. plus, the lug wrench kept slipping off the lug, as the corners were all rounded.

long story shorter, lyndsey used her roadside assistance to tow me up to michel tires plus. they replace the two rear tires (and the offending lugs).

so yeah. i spent four hours changing a tire, and was unsuccessful.

what a great weekend. :D

i did catch a great show, though: Chalk with Ari Ari from Muncie, IN. they were both great, and apparently it's Chalk's penultimate show. i got some pics, which i'll post some time.

test

is this thing on?

the blog is telling me it's publishing, but the page looks unchanged in the browser.

if you can see this, leave a comment on this entry.

UPDATE: it's fixed. guh. what a chore.

Resistance Is Futile

Resistance Is Futile: check out the golden book about Zogg.

Apparently, someone took a kids' book and changed the captions.

awesome.

heres the cover:

yes.

the gaps to present...'toast catches up

the flight from China to Los Angeles...

I noticed a new feature (at least to my eyes) is a movie screen that shows a camera angle of what's occuring in front of the plane, kind of like a virtual windshield. It makes for interesting viewing at least from a "How long are we gonna taxi?" standpoint, but becomes useless after you're over water. (This show sucks!)

Heather and I flew on until Japan, where the view over the wing was dotted with lush green landscapes and more than a few golf courses. We deboarded, spent the next couple of hours in Norita's airport. I bought some cheese-n-potato Pretz (the finest Pretz yet to meet its death on my tongue) and secured a copy of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" to read on the Greyhound to Green River.

We boarded again after playing some chess and checking emails (still no word from Liz) and we were asked if we wouldn't mind switching seats so a mother could sit next to her spawnlings. I had been burned before doing this and ended up unknowingly relenquishing half of my seat to an obese woman's encroaching assmeat, leaving the plane with a sweaty thigh and bad attitude. This time was fine and we earned some samaritan guanxi in the form of a Wall Street Journal and unlimited Cabernet, which I took full advantage of and was able to sleep well into REM state.

Maps for the states kept popping up and looked almost strange after such an absence. We pulled into LAX and deboarded, heads a little kooked from all the lack of Chinese characters. In fact, the American flag (draped everywhere for July 4th) looked almost evangelical, gimmicky. I dreaded going through customs, expecting them to pick through every single item and such , but they just took my declaration form and waved me through. Very polite. I was blown away by how friendly and helpful everyone was. I've been so used to the simplest thing being a huge issue needing a red stamp and all I had forgotten how easy and obvious and efficient things were supposed to be.

I tried to get my phone in order again, but my service had not been suspended as I had requested, and thus the "out of control" bill had been forwarded to a collection agnecy, the number terminated. Splendid. To add insult to injury, my phone couldn't be outfitted with a new number because it was a model they had rendered obsolete in December. Stupendous. They could start a new number and service with a free phone but I couldn't get the phone in Los Angeles. Fucking marvelous.

Next plan: Try to find internet. I walked to the information booth and they gave me directions to the mezzanine (once again amazed at the helpfulness and ease) and as I turned, I was arrested by an ambrosial aroma, one that tugged me nosewise, led me cartoon style to a brightly lit countertop. I was about to order and realized I didn't have to point, nor hold up a finger for "one," I could simply say, and they would understand like magic. "One Cinnabon please."

I took my prize back to Heather, and with two forks we demolished it in a chorus of groans. The first food on US soil, and damn was it exquisite. We then took a shuttle to rent a car as after checking email we confirmed Liz was indeed hosting our poor battered frames and entourage of luggage for the next couple of days. We could not rent a car, despite the fact that I was old enough and Heather had a credit card. Seems we needed to be the same person.

Axe that. We called Liz on a pay phone (since we struck out with calling cards at the airport, but then realized we could just make local calls with coins) and she said she could come pick us up at 6, recommended we drive up through Culver City and find something to do 'til then.

Back in the shuttle to the airport, then into a taxi piloted by a friendly Russian bloke who chatted us up about Chinese medicine and Los Angeles in general. No coffee shops, no internet cafes, nor libraries passed by our window, so we pulled over at the Culver City Ice Arena and went ice skating for a couple hours. Random? That's me. Heather and I laughed our asses off.

I had not been ice skating since I was 5 or so, and then I was held up on each arm by mum and auntie, so it didn't really count. I hugged the walls until I got the feel of it, dodged kids and eventually was able to go at a clip comparable to my limited roller skate skills. I proudly proclaim I didn't fall once.

We sat outside after 5. when public skating closed, played my instruments while Heather napped. Some passing hockey players asked me questions, some sat and listened for a bit. I'm sure we looked like some kind of homeless hitchhiker duo, disheveled and dazed. I could not get over the friendliness.

When Liz at last arrived, we piled our gear in, drove off to her Spanish villa apartment complex. We showed her our Chinglish prizes, I shaved to look presentable, met Liz's roommates Amy who was in the living room doctoring up some clothing for a friend. We had made plans to go to La Res, but Brian Yu (one o' me Ohio pals in Cali) phoned and said it was scheduled for demolition. I had to ask if he was kidding three times, as his sense of humor is drier than the Sahara, so we decided on Don Antonio's a but further up Pico.

When I stepped into the place, I suddenly realized I had been there before. Back in 1998, when I took a huge roadtrip with Laura Fontana, we had eaten here. The big saltwater tank was still up front, the round booths, excellent margaritas. An odd time warp. The one thing that was missing was the prickly pear cactus, but I don't imagine it was too popular of an item, and thus taken off the menu.

Brian arrived, as did Liz's fella Todd, and we dined, laughed, swapped stories (like how Brian bullshitted his way into his current job) and got along famously. The food was delicious, but China had shrunk my stomach and I couldn't finish it. Probably for the better, as I'm nearing 30 and the old metabolism will probably slow a bit.

Following dinner, Brian gave his business card to everyone and I was glad to do my part in introducing kickass people to each other. At Liz's we played MarioKart and Todd and I drank Bushmill's on the rocks. Heather and I slept on their oversized lounger couch, and it being the largest comfiest softest thing we'd slept on since arriving in China, sleep was swift and sweetly amazing.

L.A. cntd...

Heather and I woke to the sound of a phone ringing. We couldn't tell where it was coming from. Liz's voice sounded on an answering machine all trebley and Victrola-ish, but I was too late to grab it. We were due to visit she and Todd at Rhythm and Hues, the animation company currently working on "The Chronicles of Narnia" and also the Oscar winners behind "Babe." I had to drive Todd's car, a stick shift no less after a 9 month spell of only piloting a bicycle. My instincts were fine and I got us there with no trouble nor stalling. After viewing the sequences they were working on, we went to California Pizza Kitchen.

They were excited to be working on such a high-profile film, but still felt they've been pegged the glorified "talking animal" production company after "Babe." The Oscar was a great honor, but it seemed to pigeonhole their work, and despite the Lord of the Rings type scope and scale of "Narnia," it was still talking animal work. Hopefully this film will break the stigma.

I could only eat half my pizza (shrunk stomach) tasty as it was. Following our delightful Western fare, Liz and Todd went back to work and Heather and I went to the beach. Finding it rather cold (odd), after twenty minutes or so, we drove back to Liz's. We only had a brief time to sit and play with her cats before we had to go back to R&H so Liz could take Heather to the infamous Long Beach airport.

The drive was a little slow at first, until we got to the carpool lane. I dozed off in the backseat and roused at the airport. Heather got out and we hugged for a while, the moment we'd both been dreading at last arrived. We told each other we'd miss one another, flooded with happy memories and brainstorms for Greece, braided excitement and sadness. This was the real goodbye to China. Heather had been my closest friend there, and the splintering of the Haimen crew meant a multitude of inside jokes and China-based one liners had to be put in mothballs until we met again. She gave Liz and I another round of hugs and then she went inside and we drove off.

Such is the expat way: a lifestyle forged in fleeting chapters, both unforgettable and heartwrenching when it comes to the last page. Not an ending, but a cliffhanger, and you can't wait to rejoin those characters on another adventure.

Liz and I chatted on the way back, about China and animation and such. We stopped at Trader Joe's for a salad and strawberries, snacks for the Greyhound. I was able to speak a little Mandarin with the check-out girl which was oddly amusing. Liz dropped me back at R&H to hand me over to Todd, who lived closer to the Greyhound station. I hugged Liz goodbye, a too-brief visit with a person of quality. Todd and I played some games at his place (Jedi Battle and Soulcalibur) then printed out a Google map to the bus station. It was pretty much a straight shot there and I shook Todd's hand, sad to be leaving he and Liz so soon as they are both awesome folk.

I chatted briefly with a punk rock guy on his way to Glenwood Springs for a funeral, then queued for the bus, sped off into the night towards Green River.
To Moab...

On the bus, I caught up on writing, read "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory", dozed off. A girl named Roma sat next to me and she quizzed me about China, we took turns sleeping and watching each other's stuff. She read "Charlie" after I did and returned it before Green River. The miles streamed by my window, each hour bringing me closer to the desert that I longed for. The sun came up after we left Vegas, and it truly felt like going "home." I expected some things to be different, a little askew after such an absence, but that stretch of highway was as familiar as a long-studied photograph. It felt surreal, as if I'd never left. The feel of the sun, the red rocks, the sage dotting the hills, all of it as wonderful as I had remembered. It was almost disquietingly wonderful, as if I had died in China, and the whole return trip was an afterlife dream, seeing all my favorite people and places again.

Bruce and Brandy were there to collect me in Grren River. I embraced them both, tired but not jetlagged. A dazed acceptance coated me. We ate at the Tamarisk, a family diner place, then reeled in the miles into Moab. Every contour of rock, every craggy horizon, fresh in my mind as if I'd never left,. with stories and memories flooding my mind like the tide. Klondike Bluffs, the entrance to Arches, the Sunset Grill, the Colorado River, Matrimony Springs on the river road, the bankrupt gondola that went to nowhere, and that sweet scent of sage in the air. It was too beautiful, too soothing to comprehend. If I'm sure of one thing in this life, it is my love of the desert. Neither time, nor hardship, nor distance, nor death can extinguish the flame in my heart for this magic place. I had given myself two weeks, but I knew it wouldn't be enough...

Moab cntd...

The fortnight in Moab was fleeting, gorgeous, perfect but for the length of time. I got to hang with my favorite people too numerable to mention. Much of my time was spent at Mill Creek, swimming at Power Dam, Teacup, Left Hand, Right Hand, developing a brown dermal topcoat without burning myself, having delights like Bulleit Bourbon and McStiff's beers, swimming at Ken's Lake, covering myself in mud on the banks of the Colorado as prudish passing rafters averted their eyes, watching an incredible fireworks display from atop Lion's Back, karaoke at the Rio, eggs benedict from the Jailhouse, sneaking into the hot tub at a nearby bed and breakfast (often), playing my new songs on Brandy's piano, helping inflate a 10' pool for the backyard, bonding with 'Zeah and Uriia, seeing "Batman Begins" and "War of the Worlds" in the comfort of an American theater, helping Brandy with her first art show, getting soy caramel lattes at Mondo, running into my ex-fiancee and everything being cool, meeting a couple of new friends and hanging with countless old ones.

Jenn, Chance, Chicken, and Kevin arrived, as did Elise and Annie, throwing my head into the surreal "afterlife" vibe. (Had I died in China and now was living out this paradise fantasy as my brain stem slowly lost oxygen?)

We had a bonfire on the Colorado at night, swam nude in the chilly waters. In less than 24 hours, Chicken had fallen in love with Moab. He had never seen so many stars, and I was happy that he, as well as Chance, got the opportunity to get to know a part of me better. So much of my character and essence is the desert, and now they understand, are undeaf to its sirenic ballad.

Chicken, Elise, and Annie left the next day and I was the only one hardcore enough to be able to wake up and see them off, give them a farewell embrace to Denver. The rest of us went to Canyonlands and Arches, did more karaoke, had an 80's party, did more of Arches, Teacup, a drive up into the Lasal mountains, then into Castle Valley where I used to live, dropped in on Bruce's family for a visit, and all of a sudden one morning we were driving off. I felt ripped away, like a child of divorce who had to be returned to the other parent after a "weekend visit." The good news is I hadn't concocted some unattainable idyllic concept of Moab. It was just the same and yet even better, and I can always return. Since I've drunk from Matrimony Springs, it's a certainty.

Vegas at a blip....

We headed to Las Vegas. I being a veteran, warned of exceeding the 24 hour limit there. Any longer and irreperable psyche damage could occur. It's best to do the strip, gamble a bit, sample the food, get your thrift on, buy some trinkets and hightail it out. We stayed at the Circus Circus, had Singapore Slings at the carousel bar, won a little on the slots (Chance: $45, myself: $48) and fell asleep after a handyman repaired our AC unit. The temperatures were reaching 117 and it aided our urgency to depart. The next day we got a 10 egg omelet, I called my parents, spoke to them for the first time in about 9 months. It was weird because it wasn't weird. It was like returning to the Aaron show America, already in progress.

We did some thrifting (I scored some $8 new Chuck hi-tops, some corduroys and a cardigan), gassed up and split for Flagstaff.

Holbrook not by choice...

Going into Arizona we were slammed by a bit of rain which made the biggest most complete rainbow I've witnessed. When we got to Flagstaff, we were told the whole town was full (never underestimate the draw of the Grand Canyon, even in the dead of summer). I being a hotel alumnus, inquired about hold rooms and the girl told me two would open right at 10pm, or we could drive on to Holbrook. We opted for Holbrook, played some Catchphrase (a kind of pocket 24K Question travel game) and rolled in to the Motel 6. The next morning we ate at Denny's, I collected some sage, and we sped off for Albuquerque.

the 'kerky...

We stopped periodically browsing Navajo rugs, picking up blankets and whatnot, breezed by the Petrified Forest, which after seeing Moab, pales in comparison. We got to Albuquerque late afternoon, dropped in on Jenn's friends Matt and Belinda, who treated us to a tasty vegetarian cold casserole. Afterwards, Belinda guided us to a tram that led to the highest peak and gave us a view of the city lights. Had a hot drink (20 degrees cooler up there) took pictures. An electrical storm was brewing and the lightning flashed all around, then delayed our descent because of safety reasons. Hail spilled in at the top rest place and we were treated to SNL's "Best of Christopher Walken" while we waited.

At last we were given the go-sign and people piled in the gondola for the trek down. One woman was overheard saying she "got motion sickness, was claustrophobic and feared heights." Why the FUCK was she there at all, was it some sort of confront your worst fears all at the same time therapy? Jenn said she used a vomit bag and an oxygen mask. Smart.

Once back at Belinda's, which the storm had missed, I slept out on the hammock out back with a sleeping bag and pillow, the sky and stars above me. The next morning we went to an erotic candy shop, then got some Mexican cuisine, and hit the road again. We drove through North Texas, which seemed like South Kansas. We stopped in Shamrock, got a bite at a trucker place, sped off for Oklahoma City, arrived, slept.

OKC...

I woke somewhat early again so I could shower and get my body temperature back up. The AC gets cranked when we arrive, then stays arctic through the night after we've stabilized. Burger King was closed, so Chance, Kev and I moseyed over to the IHOP for coffee and blintzes. I've been trying to curb my cheese intake for the sake of allergies and voice, but I allowed this indulgence. We pressed on towards St. Louis, seeing great elaborate billboards for Yakov Smirnov and Andy Williams as we passed through the casino belt.

St. Louis...

A quick stop at Sullivan, so the two Sullivans in the car could take pictures of the water tower and chamber of commerce, then finally to the outskirts of St. Louis where Chance's aunt's family treated us to a massive pasta dinner, replete with salads and double dessert. Magnificent people. We shared stories of the road, laughed, said our favorite Napoleon Dynamite lines, then bade them adieu with stuffed bellies and smiles.

We drove to Art and Andy's place to bed down and I picked up some Red Stripe at the local supermarket. Chance, Kevin and I sat up in the darkened kitchen bonding and swapping stories and confessing feelings about the desert, drugs, and women, nothing I can divulge here as those talks between men are sacred, even if the details are hazy.

rolling finally to the 'nati...

The next morning we visited the legendary graffiti wall and the Arch, took pictures, dropped Andy and Art off, headed back to the 'nati. Everything was familiar still. I'd expected something of a change, but what really changes in nine months? (We now return you to Aaron Willis in America, already in progress...) We dropped off Kevin, visited briefly with Kevin Sr and Lois, then took Chance to get his check on Ludlow. I popped in on Halley who gave me the greatest hug and smile. She had been having a bad day and my sudden appearance had turned it around. She told me she and Jen Lee had been sitting around lately "feeling" that I was going to just show up, and I had. We made plans to catch up, and then I was off again, dropping Chance at his place, then I was deposited at my new residence with Steve.

I loaded stuff in, having that "I never left" feeling. I didn't feel like I was back or stuck, just that I was making a one year pit stop.I treated he and Jenn to Jimmy John's sandwiches, then Steve and I watched some "Little Britain" and "Tricky Brains" writing down such choice subtitle quotes like "Shark is in the toilet," "Who thinks of such suck idea," and "Don't wear the helmet if you're not Bald Wong." We both felt sleepiness overcome us, and thus went to bed.

The next morning we drove out to his workplace to deposit some cash at his credit union but it was closed. We got Mexican food at a nearby place and our server had a T-shirt on that said "No thank you." I asked her about it in Spanish, and she answered she didn't know, she just saw it in a store and bought it. We dropped by Walgreen's for some houseware needs, and also swung by Jenn's for some of the multitude of crap I left in her storage space. I had called my friend Amy (whom I had met on myspace but not in the flesh) and made plans to see "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory."

I unpacked stuff and then waited outside for her to pick me up. And waited. And waited. And waited. About the time I thought I had gotten stood up, she pulled up and we went to the AMC, both of us giggling nervously at the weird but sort of not blind date we found ourselves on. We knew each other from chatting online so much that actually meeting was a formality, kind of like with Rhys and Jeni before they got to China. We got along famously, digging each others' actual company as much as the virtual. She had never been to the AMC before and it had been such a long time for me, it felt like returning to a childhood home.

The film was perfect. Tim Burton did a fantastic job staying truer to the book, bringing out the darkness therein, but also making it completely distinct from the Gene Wilder film (which is sappy). Depp scores another unforgettable role, and also another Halloween costume contender for me this year (unless I bust out Jack Sparrow finally. Should I take a poll?)

Afterwards we went to Carol's, went upstairs to Crush where some horrendous karaoke was going on, then went to Jacob's to do some decent stuff and catch up with Steve and Laura J. I busted out "Baker Street," and "Longview" with emcee Bonnie giving me props and welcoming me back from China. Craziness. Back in the 'nati swing o' things.

The next day, Amy and I went to Hueston Woods, scrapping plans for Yellow Springs, and spent some time exploring a creek and discovering a swimming hole that would have been perfect if not for the HUNDREDS of water skipper spiders gliding on the surface. Nauseating.

After she dropped me off, I hung out with Halley again, who chatted me up about China and such. Steve came by and we were going to hit Amol for some Indian food when Jen Lee came up the walk and burst with a cry of joy at seeing me. She ran up the steps and enveloped me in an excited hug. She had just gotten her Peace Corps assignment in Cameroon and was shipping out in September. Nuttiness. I was very happy for her, but sad I would only get a month to visit with her before she left.

Steve and I got our Amol on, then gave Halley the leftovers. She had my hookah (Minh hadn't taken it to Vietnam) so I fired it up with some of the licorice tobacco I had gotten from the Mediterannean market long ago. I had to run down to Kilimanjaro to get charcoal and met Bill, Gabe and Todd on the street. My novelty should wear off in a week, but until then I have to prepare to get delayed every chance in the most delightful way. Steve and I went to the Golden Lions for more karaoke with Bonnie. I was impressed to see she had "Goodnight Saigon" in her special book and rocked it proper. Janet, Sharon, Julie, Chance, Grover, and Keith all welcomed me back.

The next day, I woke and uploaded pictures, prepared a weekend bag to take to the farm, as my parents were stealing me until Monday. They picked me up around 1:30, and I loaded a couple boxes of things I couldn't fit and/or immediately need for them to store. Why do I amass so much stuff? After a while one's posessions begin to own YOU, instead of the opposite. I survived 9 months without that clutter, why would I need it now? I need to have a yard sale and scale down my possessions. Clothes I haven't worn in over a year, little toys and such, I should get rid of them.

We picked up Mia, who is getting very tall and well spoken, then drove off to the farm. The rolling green flatness was enjoyable, if only because it was different than what I had been used to the last 9 months. That "just visiting" vibe was prevalent, for Ohio as a whole, so I didn't feel trapped. I played the newly tuned piano, voice a little thrown by the humidity, had dinner outside on the picnic table, and enjoyed the rice salad, a Barb Willis summer staple food, despite the fact that I have a bit of loathing towards rice at present.

The next day, Dad and I took a ride on his Goldwing to Greenville, had some sandwiches at Maid-Rite, visited the Kitchenaid store/musuem and then sped back to the farm. I was given an unnatural fear of motorcycles, beaten into me how dangerous they were by, of all people, my parents themselves, so I was a little nervous starting out, then got into it. I still don't think I have the "love and fire" that enthusiasts do, but I think I understand a little more of the biker cultism.

We made it back and then grabbed Mia and Mom, went into Middletown for some hot air balloon event. They were trying to charge $10 for parking so we parked on private property hoping we wouldn't get towed. We got the usual fare: funnel cake, Italian sausage sandwich, soft pretzel. Mia and I rode the limited carnival rides they had (no Gravitron dammit!) and one called "Hang Glider" we had to do twice. It flew you in a wide swooping circle while lying on your stomach. I told Mia it was like being Batman. She said "I'm Supergirl!" I said "I'm Superuncle!" She said "No, you're SuperMAN!"

We watched the balloons ascend, deflate. I saw the crowd in a different way, like possibly how a Chinese person might see it. Wow. Most of the men were overweight, dressed in baseball caps and shorts. So many, you'd swear it was standard uniform. (Chinese men all like to dress in black suits like some kind of Soprano fantasy.) It was very American though; the concept of a carnival, coupled with the hot air balloons. I'll not take those for granted again. Carnivals rule, especially if there's a Gravitron.

The car wasn't towed, we hit Sonic for some more sustenance on the way back out to the farm. I blogged to catch up, then turned in. Whew. Hopefully, I can get back in the habit of writing daily again so I won't have to spend long red-eyed hours at the monitor like this.

new grill technology

check it out:



this was in an email forwarded to me. i dont know where it came from, but it's a good time.

show tonight

hey, i almost forgot: DJ Empirical tonight, with some bands:



you should go!

all go signs

a salute to Chuck and his All Go Signs crew for executing an awesome event yesterday (saturday, that it).

among other bands, Infinite Number of Sounds rocked out, as usual. i also got to break in my new camera:

i'm liking it so far. (the camera, i mean.)

more pictures later.

oh, and DJ Empirical is now confirmed to be spinning at the Cleveland release party for the new Inifinite Number of Sounds album Radio Whales on August 12th, at the Brachland Tavern in Cleveland. sweet.

the toast found an internet connection

yes, he blogged a bit about his last two days in china. he didn't post-date them, so i took the liberty of doing so for him.

June 27th: exit Haimen

June 28th: exit China

enjoy.

the toast is back in the states!

well, he's actually been in the states for a week or so. what i mean to say is that i just got a call from him out in moab, utah, from the home of Ambassador BC. sweet.

so yeah, they're going to rock the mic at karaoke tonight, then head to Vegas tomorrow, then back here by tuesday/wednesday of next week.

i'm excited.

my own databending experiments

so, stAllio's databending post finally inspired me to try my hand at it.

since the toast is on his way back here, and i recently rediscovered some old digicam pics (nearly two years old, some of them), i thought i'd use one of him for the experiment.

here's the original:

(no, no experimenting done as yet: that's how he looks! ;)

after quite a bit of futzing around, i got this out:

what i did was:

• open the jpg in photoshop
• save the image as a tif
  
• changed the extension to "txt" and opened it in wordpad
• changed a random character (i think a "K" to a "J")
• saved and closed wordpad
• changed the extension back to tif and opened the image in ms paint
• saved the image as a bmp

i was having a lot of trouble initally, but the key was to work with tif or bmp. according to stAllio!, jpg files are tougher to deal with, as they break easily.

UPDATE: syntax took a whack at it too:

sweet. i have to try this out some more.

UPDATE #2: i was just showing someone what i was talking about, and did this one:

it's just converted to bmp, opened in wordpad and saved. syntax was right; simply opening it in wordpad is enough to goof it up.

UPDATE #3: a couple more.

using Microsoft Word, i got this one:

if you can't see that, here it is in jpg form:

this procedure:

• jpg » bmp
• bmp open in ms word
• ms word saved as plain txt (with bmp extension)

seemed simple, and it opened fine in Windows Picture and Fax Viewer (which i hate) but would not display in IE6, and so i couldn't be sure about uploading it for you all to see (it works in firefox).

i had to use WP&FV to save it as a jpg for the above image to show in IE6.

in addition to this, i used worpad on the bmp (before conversion) and, predictably, got this one:

as you can see, it's got the ms word warp as before, but with the additional "wordpad effect", as the earlier bends had.

more flash: napoleon dynamite soundboard.

flash is dumb, generally, but i still like this kind of usage:



if it's too small for you, click here.

weird ad blogs

so, i've just discovered what i think are blogs with only ads on them.

i lost the first one, but here's the second one: Tips to Gardening. each link goes to a product site, and the text of the post is the text of that page, complete with google ads and everything.

some bot must have set it up somehow.

bubble girl.

check this:



weird, huh?

you can grab her and pull her around, too.

oh, yeah: make it bigger.

David Hasselhoff Paper Plane

Check it out: make a David Hasselhoff paper plane.

Sweet.